


Hidden Rooms

by DeanPizzaPie, faequeentitania



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Romance, Sex Pollen, Sexy Times, Wincest - Freeform, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3340517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanPizzaPie/pseuds/DeanPizzaPie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/faequeentitania/pseuds/faequeentitania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean messes with a potion he finds at the bunker, with unexpected results.  Neither he, nor Sam, can resist the sex pollen's affect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> RP with [actuallyxawesome](http://actuallyxawesome.tumblr.com)/[Dalekfighter1190](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DalekFighter1190) writing Dean on Tumblr; [DeanPizzaPie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanPizzaPie)/[samwinchestersideblog](http://samwinchestersideblog.tumblr.com) writing Sam.

When Dean said that they’d found their own batcave, he hadn't really anticipated just how right he was. Between the insanely cool war room, library, living quarters, and gun range, he estimated that there were probably at least a mile’s worth of hallways, closets, and weapons stores left untouched below ground.

He was a little afraid of getting lost, if he was perfectly honest, so keeping it short-range while Sam wasn't home was the current plan.

Which reminded him, how long does it take the boy to get groceries? It wasn't rocket science.

Anyway, the thought was distracted away by the allure of the contents of the first room he had decided to explore. It looked a bit like an apothecary store, with floor to ceiling shelves lining the walls. Each shelf was packed to the brim full of dusty jars, boxes, and he was pretty sure he saw an odd taxidermy creature and an articulated skeleton or two among the cobwebs as well.

“Whoa,” he breathed, shining his flashlight around the room slowly. He glanced behind him and saw a light switch, and flicked it on. With a hum, the bulbs came on, casting a dim, eerie light on the room.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” he chortled, clicking off the flashlight and stepping further into the room.

~*~

After calling out to Dean, to let him know he was back, Sam put all the groceries away. The process took him longer than necessary, only because Dean had been in the cupboards and fridge, and that meant Sam had to straighten things back out. He’d also left a bunch of old fast food in the fridge, and Sam got rid of that, shaking his head.

Leaving the kitchen, he walked down the hall and opened the door to Dean’s room. His brother wasn't around. ”Dean?”

Still, there was no response. If Sam hadn't taken the Impala, he’d have though Dean took off. But there was nothing around for miles, so Dean wouldn't have walked off. That left exploring.

Heading down another hall, one that they’d started exploring, he called out again. Then, in the distance, he saw some light pouring out of a distant doorway, and headed for it. When he reached it, in stood in the doorway, “Dean.” He sounded just a little exasperated, but his brother’s gleeful expression had Sam taking a second look around the room. ”The skeleton? You’re amused by the skeleton?” he rolled his eyes. 

~*~

Dean turned at the sound of his name, seeing Sam standing in the doorway.

"First of all, don’t pretend you’re not geeking out over all this stuff too," Dean pointed an accusatory at Sam with raised eyebrows, "Second of all, this is _awesome_! This answers half the problems we have with getting ritual ingredients for the next ten years!”

Dean turned back to the rows of shelves ahead of him, peering curiously at the neatly labeled rows of jars and boxes, “Dude, have you even heard of half this stuff?”

~*~

Sam tried to feign disinterest, but as he started walking around and took a look at the shelves upon shelves of ingredients, jars filled with strange thing, he couldn't hide his own enthusiasm. Picking up a jar, he shook it. ”What are these mini maple leave lookin’ things.” Then he read the label and made a face. ”Dried lizard feet.”

He walked over to some stacked barrels, and looked at some bits and pieces sitting on top of them. ”It’s like some antique store,” he said, this time taking a look at an ancient looking magnifying glass. ”An apothecary, I guess.” He was picking up a thin, leather bound book, when he turned his head to glance at Dean. ”What’s that, behind you. Looks like some sorta door,” he mused. It was a short wooden door, with cast iron hardware, and looked like it belonged in some castle somewhere.

~*~

Dean turned away from a jar of what appeared to be ghoul blood to look where Sam had indicated. He raised his eyebrows curiously as he spotted the door as well, and moved toward it.

"Hm," he said thoughtfully, trying the door handle. Locked.

"Well, one way to find out," he shrugged at Sam, pulling the lock pick kit from his back pocket. He had figured he’d meet a few locked doors if he started poking around down here, and apparently his preparedness had paid off.

After a few moments of tricky poking and jabbing at the old lock, Dean heard the satisfying click of the tumbler falling into place.

"Ah-ha," he murmured triumphantly, straightening back up and trying the handle again, pulling the heavy door open. The smell of stale air and dust seeped out, and Dean peered curiously into the darkness of what appeared to be…

"A closet?" he postulated out loud, pulling the door the rest of the way open. Sure enough, more rows and rows of neatly stacked boxes and jars lined the closet shelves.

"Well that’s a disappointment," he shrugged, stepping closer to the shelves and squinting at the faded handwriting.

"Why do you think it was locked?" Dean turned his head to ask Sam, "If it was just more jars of stuff?"

~*~

"Any skeletons in the closet?" Sam asked dryly as he watched Dean lean inside the closet. "Maybe that skull’s body?"

At his brother’s question, Sam gave a shrug and walked over. Pulling his small flashlight from his pocket, he shined the light inside, moving it from one shelf to another. 

Pushing Dean aside, Sam reached into the closet and took one of the jars, read the tiny writing, then picked up another. ”Looks like the lethal stuff’s in here,” he said. ”Night Shade, white baneberry, hemlock… Jeez.”

Moving to the next shelf, he started reading the labels, but gave a shrug. None of them were familiar. The next shelf had a label on it.

"Spells. We might find something useful here, assuming we’re not dabbling with dark magic," Sam said. He directed the light onto the scraps of paper and some of the jars that were next to them.

~*~

"Yeah, maybe," Dean agreed absentmindedly, only half paying attention now that he had started taking a better look at the shelves for himself, pulling out his pocket flashlight as well.

He scanned over boxes and jars filled with stuff he couldn't even begin to pronounce, let alone guess what they were used for, and slowly became aware of a quiet humming sound.

He frowned, cocking his head to listen. That was weird. He turned off his flashlight, just to make sure it wasn't that, and no, there was that hum still.

"You hear that?" he asked Sam, looking around the closet. He started slowly shuffling toward the back, listening hard for the sound. It seemed to be growing steadily louder, and Dean craned his head, trying to find the source.

"What the…?" he murmured, when what appeared to be some kind of glowing light caught it his eye, hidden behind some boxes. He reached up, shuffling things aside carefully, until a simple, glass mason jar was revealed.

As soon as Dean’s hand closed around, warmth flooded through him in a rush and he gasped, eyes going wide as the glowing intensified with it, practically illuminating the entirety of the tiny room.

Dean pulled it down carefully, an almost drowsy feel coming over him contently.

"Wow," he murmured, peering at the jar hazily. There didn't seem to be anything of substance actually _in_ it; just glowing light and that quiet hum that reminded him of a softer version of Baby’s engine.

_Open it… open it… open…_

The idea swam lazily around Dean’s head, settling right in with the warm feeling the jar seemed to be pulsing into him.

Somewhere in the back of his head, the rational, hunter-trained part of him was ringing out alarm bells, but it was almost like an out-of-body experience; Dean could see his hand go to the lid of the jar and begin to twist it open, even as that warning tried to fight its way through.

The second the lid cleared the jar, the light exploded.

~*~

"Hear what?" Sam asked, engrossed in reading the elements of a spell written in Latin. Noticing Dean turn off his flashlight, Sam finally looked up and watched as Dean retrieved a jar.

"Huh. It almost looks like those soul jars Abaddon is collecting," he said, frowning a little. The light was beautiful, and the sound… to him it sounded like a heart beat.

His fingers itched to touch the jar. He started reaching for it, when it hit him. Something outside him, some force, was at work, supplanting his own volition. ”Dean…”

Even as he tried to make sense of what he was feeling, his brother started to open the jar. “Dean, stop!” The words were out of his mouth, but Sam found there wasn't a thing he could do to move his limbs, to physically stop Dean.

Instead, a voice whispered in his ear. _Do it. Open it. Open it._

Sam held his breath. His heart beat faster, matching the rhythm of the sound coming from the jar, then a burst of red light, as vibrant as the light in a laser pointer, blinded him.

Reaching out, he grabbed a shelf to steady himself. ”What…” The light slowly dissipated, but a strange warmth pressed around Sam, seeping into his skin. ”Dean?” 

~*~

Dean grunted as he was momentarily blinded, eyes scrunching shut reflexively. Just as fast as it happened, it was gone, plunging the room back into its previous dim light.

_"Dean?"_

Dean’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of Sam’s voice, his breath leaving him in a quiet gasp as the sight of his brother felt like hooks being sank somewhere right inside his abdomen.

The jar and lid fell from his limp hands, by some miracle not shattering, but rolling away and under a shelf. Dean barely noticed, the deep-seated compulsion to reach out and touch Sam overwhelming everything else for a few disorienting moments.

He got as far as fisting his hands in Sam’s shirt and stepping close, the hot shock of Sam’s body against his sending sparks of electricity up his spine before some kind of sense kicked in, and he froze.

"Sammy?" he asked uncertainly, panting a little as he fought the impulse to shove Sam back against the shelves.

 _Sam Sam Sam_ , pulsed through his head, and Sam’s smell, so close and intimate, wasn't making things any easier.

Shit. What the fuck had he done?

~*~

Dealing with trying to figure what that voice in his head was, and why his skin felt so hot, Sam’s attention was only drawn to Dean when Dean grabbed him by the shirt. Automatically, Sam put an arm around Dean, to steady him.

"You alright?" he whispered, his gaze moving up to Dean’s face. His brother was slightly flushed. His chest was rising and falling, like he’d just run a couple miles, and there seemed to be a secret message in his eyes. It made his mouth go dry, though he didn't understand his own reaction.

Cocking his head to the side, Sam lifted his hand, running his palm over Dean’s face and forehead. ”What just happened. Dean, you’re hot. Burning hot,” he said, pressing into him as he reached behind Dean for the paper next to the jar, hoping for an explanation. 

He could feel his brother’s heart beating against his chest. Stepping back, he looked Dean over again, his gaze sliding slowly over his brother, his brows furrowed. Alarm bells were ringing in his head, but he couldn't make sense of this.

~*~

Dean’s hands tightened in Sam’s shirt as his brother moved, reaching for something, but it whatever it was didn't seem important right now. Whatever it was was absolutely _infinitesimal_ compared to how much Dean needed Sam’s hands on him.

Dean groaned when Sam’s hand pressed against his forehead and trailed down the side of his face, and his brother was saying something, but Dean couldn't focus on it.

Sam stepped back, and Dean groaned, trying to reach out for him again.

"Sammy, I can’t- I don’t…" Dean couldn't focus, couldn't make his mouth work properly, not with the pull in his guts telling him that kissing Sam is the only thing he should be doing with his mouth right now.

Suddenly, that was exactly what he was doing, without really knowing how he got there.

~*~

"Can’t what?" Sam’s breaths were coming out in pants. He tried to read the paper. His eyes focused on one Latin word. "Amatorius." He licked his lips. "Dean, something about eroti—"

Before he finished, he found himself tugged up against Dean. He opened his mouth to speak, and Dean’s tongue was invading his mouth. He put his hands between them, intending to push Dean away, to explain what was in the jar. But the way Dean took his mouth, the way he kissed him, took Sam’s breath away.

Heat lanced through him. He closed his arms around Dean, groaning into his mouth. His mind yelled at him, telling him he had to bring a stop to this. But his body… God he was hard, hard for his brother. ”Dean…” he whispered huskily, as the battle raged inside him.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean groaned at the sound of his name in Sam’s mouth, low and gravely and _fuck_ Sam has definitely never said his name like that before. Rational thought flew right out of his head at the sound, and Sam’s arms around him sent heat crawling down his spine to settle in his cock. It was like everywhere Sam touched him was making his temperature rise, and Dean had never before been so content with burning up.

He shoved Sam backwards, never losing contact but needing to brace them, needing there to be no give, no space between them when Dean pressed himself up against his brother.

The shelves rattled at the impact, and Dean groaned as he willed his hands to release Sam’s shirt, wanting to feel Sam’s skin so much more. The fingers of one hand reached up to bury in Sam’s thick, gorgeous hair while the other went south, finding the hem of Sam’s shirt and shoving it up roughly.

Dean’s lips slid away from Sam’s minutely, panting too hard for a proper kiss anymore, but needing the closeness, the intimacy of Sam’s mouth near his as he pushed his hand under Sam’s shirt. He breathed an almost soundless moan against Sam’s lips as his palm traced up Sam’s side and across to his stomach; fingertips bumping along every defined ab as his hand drew lower and lower.

"So fucking gorgeous, Sammy," he found himself muttering, thumb tracing the trail of coarse hair that lead from Sam’s navel down toward the button of his jeans, "So fucking…"

His mouth lost focus of his words as he pressed his palm over the front of Sam’s jeans.

~*~

Sam barely noticed that his back hit the shelves, or that some things came tumbling down off it. He couldn't think beyond the fact that Dean was kissing the daylight out of him, the things his brother could do with that tongue of his, and the way he was touching him. 

Heart slamming against his chest, Sam protested the slight distance Dean put between them. Before he could say more, Dean’s warm palm was moving against his skin, moving downwards under his shirt. ”Dean,” Sam gave a strangled cry, moving his hand to cover Dean’s, pressing it into his abs.

He wasn't certain whether he was trying to stop Dean, or to encourage him. Help him get his jeans opened. Just the thought of Dean’s hand dipping into his pants had Sam’s knees go weak.

Gasping in deep breaths, Sam drew on the last reserves of his control. ”It… this… it’s not us… it’s…” Even as he tried to explain, Sam got lost in the heat, the hunger he saw in Dean’s eyes. Even as he shook his head no, he was the lowering his mouth over Dean, demanding another mind numbing kiss from his brother.

~*~

Dean’s heart fluttered in his chest as Sam’s hand covered his own and Sam’s mouth pressed down against his again.

Heat crashed over him in a wave suddenly, and he gasped against Sam’s lips. God, he needed, he _needed_ …

" _Oh god fuck me_ ," was out of his mouth before he could even think, and his cock throbbed in his jeans at his own words. The only thing he could focus on was the heat inside him, the hard tug of his insides for Sam to be as close as physically possible, before he burnt up.

Dean released Sam’s hair, fumbling instead at the fastenings on Sam’s jeans, practically delirious with want.

"Come on, _come on_ ,” he panted, tugging down Sam’s zipper and finally getting his hand inside. He groaned when his hand closed around Sam’s dick, thick and hard and hot and he didn't waste a moment before he started jacking him; relishing the feel of that smooth, soft skin in the palm of his hand.

~*~

 _Fuck me. Come on. Fuck me. Come on._ Dean’s desperate demands reverberated in Sam’s mind, winding him up like nothing else could. He knew this was all wrong. That tomorrow, there would be a price to pay. But once Dean’s fist closed around his aching dick, it was all over. There was no going back. There was no stopping this train. He saw that clearly now.

Leaning back, he watched Dean jack him, get him impossibly harder. The sight of his own brother’s hand on him, it was dirty. It was fucking hot. 

When he couldn't stand another minute, Sam grabbed Dean’s shirt, tugging it up over his head. The loss of pressure on his cock was almost painful, but he wanted to touch Dean. He needed to be skin against skin. 

Dropping down in front of his brother, he unbuttoned his jeans and dragged the material down to Dean’s thighs. Cupping his brother over the thin material of his shorts, Sam pressed the heel of his hand against Dean’s arousal. ”Fuck my mouth Dean, the way you want me to fuck you,” he whispered, his eyes bright with need.

~*~

"Fucking _christ_ ,” Dean wheezed, breath punched out of him at the sight of Sam on his knees and the feel of his hand, and his heart felt like it was going to explode at the filth that just poured out of his brother’s mouth.

He braced his arms on the shelf Sam had just been pressed against and spread his legs, trying to prevent them from buckling out from under him.

"Sam, please," he whispered, eyes riveted to the sight of Sam’s hand pressing on him as lust crept up his spine, "Please…"

~*~

Sam couldn't help watching Dean. Admiring his brother’s rugged good looks. And feeling a thrill run through him at the thought that he was the one responsible for the raw, naked lust in Dean’s eyes, in his voice.

He’d never heard Dean beg for anything, never known how hearing the word please drop from his mouth would twist Sam up on the insides. His nostrils flared slightly. Squeezing Dean one more time, he withdrew his hand. 

Almost immediately, he ran his hands behind Dean’s thighs, then shoved his hands up all the way into his shorts. Clamping his calloused palms over the globes of Dean’s tight ass, he tugged Dean close, mouthing his cock right over his shorts. He knew what Dean wanted, what he needed, but Sam had needs to. He wanted more of his brother’s pleading, and he’d have it, before he gave Dean everything he craved.

~*~

Dean made a sound that was _definitely not a whimper, dammit_ , as Sam mouthed at the fabric of his boxers, which was definitely a step in the right direction but no where near enough.

"Dammit, Sammy," Dean growled, reaching a hand down and fisting it in Sam’s long hair (knew those ridiculous locks had to have a purpose), "Come on, Sammy, please, come on…"

Dean was babbling, and his hips didn't seem to know what to do; press back into the fucking amazing feel of Sam’s hands on his ass or press forward against his cock-tease of a mouth.

“ _Fuck._ ”

~*~

Sam didn't relent. He’d never seen Dean like this, heard him plead for something he wanted. It sent thrills through him like nothing else could, and filled him with a sense of power. So he used his mouth and face, pressing, rubbing, tracing the line of Dean’s hard dick right through the shorts. Giving him pressure, then taking it away, all the time kneading his ass, pulling him close.

His brother’s raspy curses, the sounds he made, had Sam so wound up, he practically lost track of time. He finally looked up at Dean. ”Who cries through sex, Dean?” he asked, his voice rough with lust, with want.

~*~

"Fucking dick," Dean growled, fingers tightening in Sam’s hair and anger slithering up to snake into the almost painful lust pulsing through his system. If he knew Sam was going to be a fucking cock tease…

Dean jerked on Sam’s hair, using it to pull his head back and damn if his brother didn't look pretty with his neck exposed and vulnerable. Dean let his knees buckle, landing heavily in Sam’s lap and immediately starting to grind down against his hard on with quiet grunts.

He growled as he attacked Sam’s neck with sucks and bites a moment later, his brother’s stubble rough against his tongue as he ran it over his bobbing adam’s apple.

Dean felt like he barely had the coordination to get his hand between them, shoving aside any and all fabric keeping them apart.

A jolted _ah!_ panted out of Dean’s mouth, murmured against Sam’s neck as he finally pressed his bare cock against Sam’s. He slid the precome-wet tips of their dicks against each other with a snap of his hips, and Dean never thought something so simple could make his muscles tighten with pleasure and his heart race.

~*~

The laughter caught in Sam’s throat as the almost painful tug on his hair forced his head to pull back, letting him see the depth of the lust in Dean’s eyes. 

"Unf…" he huffed out as Dean landed heavily on his lap, manhandling him, grinding against him, and running that sweet hot mouth of his along his jaw and then the sensitive parts of his neck. "Dean…. " 

Just like that, Sam was on fire. He closed one hand around Dean’s neck, running the fingers of his other hand through the short hair at his nape, holding him close as he thrust up against him. The sudden loss of pressure had him cursing and dragging Dean back down on him. They struggled to push their clothing aside, and then Dean’s hand was around his cock, stroking him both with his hand with his own cock.

A low growl of pleasure escaped Sam. He let his brother have his way for few minutes, and then he took over control. Pushing Dean’s hand, impatiently, he closed his hand around Dean’s dick, and started to pump. Nudging his own painfully hard dick against Dean’s hand, he leaned forward.

Forcing Dean to bow back, he kissed his jaw, and his neck, and made his way lower. Tonguing Dean’s nipple, he scraped his teeth right next to it, then licked him to sooth any pain. 

When he’d given the same treatment to Dean’s other nipple, Sam molded Dean close, covering his mouth with his own, and tangling their tongues together in a heated dance. Need blurred his vision. His entire body was tense and God… so damned aware of his brother’s every movement.

Tearing his lips away, he pulled Dean’s head close, whispering in his ear. ”This what you want? Or do you want me to fuck you blind?” He knew what he wanted, and it made his gut clench. He didn't care about the spell, or anything else. Just the heat in his blood, the heat for his brother.

~*~

Dean grunted at the sharp pain of Sam’s teeth on his chest, his cock jerking in his brother’s hand as the sensation got mixed up in his oversensitive nerves to be nothing but pleasure.

Then Sam’s mouth was on his again and he was practically floating with how hot it was to have Sam’s tongue in his mouth and his hand on Dean’s dick.

" _This what you want? Or do you want me to fuck you blind?_ "

"Big fucking talk," Dean panted back, shaking now and titling his head to the side, pressing his lips right up against Sam’s ear in return, "Lubed condom in my wallet. Let’s see how well you live up."

~*~

"Keep it up, Dean," Sam grit out, practically dumping Dean on his ass as he got up and grabbed the bottom of the legs of Dean’s jeans. With one, strong tug, he got the pants clear off and was searching the back pocket.

"Shorts off," he snapped as he dropped the pants and rifled through the wallet, pulling out the square foil. Holding it between two fingers, he quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off.

His aching cock was so damned hard as it pressed up against his stomach. Catching Dean’s eyes, he raised his chin and gave him a look. Rebellion, challenge, need, want… it was all in his eyes.

Dropping back down to the ground, he reached for Dean. Cupping the back of his head, he pulled him close for another savage kiss, on that lasted until his chest burned with the need to take in air. When he released Dean, his gaze fell to this brother’s swollen lips. There was a slight smirk on his own as he slapped Dean’s ass. ”Roll over.”

Tearing the foil with his teeth, he started to roll the condom up his dick, never taking his eyes off Dean. His entire world had just narrowed to his brother, which wasn't unusual in other aspects of his life. But this… fuck, it had him burning up.

~*~

Dean smirked as Sam loomed over him, digging the condom out of his pocket. His brother was pretty hot when he was riled up, and Dean couldn't help but reach down and start stroking his dick with tight, quick tugs; staring straight into Sam’s eyes in challenge as his other hand wiggled his underwear down his legs and off.

He groaned when Sam hauled him in for a kiss, practically mauling his mouth and fuck his lips were going to bruised later.

Then Sam _slapped his ass_.

“ _Son of a bitch_ ,” Dean grunted, the place where Sam’s hand made contact stinging, and Dean was contemplating rolling Sam under him and showing the bratty kid a thing or two.

Then Sam ripped the foil off the condom and rolling it on, and Dean shivered at the look in Sam’s eyes, the laser focus.

He swallowed thickly as he obeyed Sam’s command instead, rolling carefully onto his front, elbows and knees braced on the hard floor.

~*~

For one crazy second, Sam thought Dean was gonna refuse. That all that baiting was for nothing. But then Dean slowly rolled over, lifting his sweet hot ass up in the air. For Sam.

Drawing a shaky breath, Sam crawled forward on all fours, dipping his head down and running his mouth up Dean’s spine. By the time he reached the back of Dean’s neck, he was curled over his brother, practically every part of his body grazing, touching Dean’s. 

"So fucking hot, Dean," he whispered hoarsely, running his hands along Dean’s side, and his stomach as he slotted his rock hard cock between Dean’s ass cheeks. "Want to be inside you. Want it so fucking bad," he admitted, pulsing against Dean as he closed a hand around Dean’s cock and stared to pump his hand to the same rhythm. 

When he felt Dean jerk forward a little, he started to work his dick inside him. He was slow, but relentless in pushing inside him, using every shred of control he still had not to take his brother before he was ready. 

~*~

Dean moaned and gave a hard shiver as Sam ran his tongue up Dean’s spine before draping himself along Dean’s back.

Dean’s head was spinning, his whole body worked up and sensitive as Sam ran his hands over him.

" _Want to be inside you. Want it so fucking bad._ "

Dean groaned at Sam’s words and the feel of his hand closing around his dick, stroking in time to the rock of Sam’s hips and he was going to go goddamn crazy before Sam even fucked him.

"Come on, Sammy," he panted, pushing his hips back, "Do it. Fucking _do it_.”

Finally, fucking _finally_ , Dean felt the thick press of Sam’s cock and he closed his eyes as he hung his head down, resting his head on his forearms and breathing deeply.

It had been a long damn time since he’s done this with someone, and even longer still since he’d done it with no foreplay like they were doing now. The burn of the stretch made his breath catch, and he clenched his hands into fists and tried to relax.

Sam took his time, at least, and Dean was never more thankful for Sam’s saintly patience than he was right now.

"Fuck," he panted on a shivery breath as Sam finally bottomed out, hips pressed flushed against Dean’s ass, and Dean threw a hand back to hold him still, needing time for the burn to even out and ease.

~*~

Dean’s urgent demands drew a sharp warning from Sam, “Dean!” How the hell was he supposed to go slow when Dean was urging him to go faster, was pushing back against him in invitation. The condom might be lubed, but Dean felt tight around him, and even with his lust clouded mind, Sam knew they would be paying the piper for this tomorrow. He didn't intend for Dean to be paying for it physically on top of whatever they went through.

"Shshsh," he whispered, stroking Dean, making sure he had something else to concentrate on until he was inside his brother. As his hips slotted against Dean’s ass, he shivered. His need to fuck Dean was spiraling out of control, getting harder to fight by the minute. It was only Dean’s hand on him that stopped Sam, grounded him.

He leaned in, hardly moving his hip, but kissing Dean’s neck. Nuzzling it, then moving his mouth over the shell of his ear. A soft groan escaped him at the sensations rocking his body. “S’alright. Waiting as long as you need.” He grimaced, fighting his needs, but giving Dean what Dean needed. Time.

~*~

Dean shivered, his muscles fluttering uncertainly around Sam’s shaft and his rim slowly adjusting to the dull burn.

He scrunched his eyes shut for several long moments, squeezing and releasing around Sam on purpose now to convince his body to open up to the thickness of his brother’s cock. His erection had flagged considerably while Sam pushed inside, but his brother’s hand was doing wonders and the hot thrum in his blood was starting to overwhelm the momentary discomfort.

"Ok," he breathed shakily, nodding his head minutely, more to himself that to Sam, "S’ok."

He kept his hand back, the feel of Sam’s skin under his palm anchoring him in the midst of all the reeling sensations coursing through him and helping him to breathe easier.

He pushed his hips back experimentally, the feel of Sam’s hipbones against his ass almost as startling as it was hot.

"Oh fuck," he exhaled on a short breath, how goddamn _deep_ Sam felt inside him doing something ridiculous to his heart rate, “ _Fuck_.”

~*~

Already pushed to the edge of his control, Sam almost lost it when Dean clenched around him. Cursing, he put his chin down on Dean’s shoulder, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to count his exhales. He needed to think about anything but the way Dean felt around him, or the little movements he made that made Sam want to buck against him.

When Dean pushed back against him, heat pulsed through Sam. Grimacing, he couldn't help closing an arm around Dean’s waist, and holding him tighter, pulling him closer if it was possible.

Fire raced through his veins. ”God…” he breathed, mentally willing Dean to give him the go ahead.

~*~

Sam’s arm tightened around Dean’s waist and Sam’s breath was hot on his back. Dean groaned breathlessly, pushing back again reflexively.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean whispered, the pain of Sam’s initial thrust gone now, and replaced with gut-deep need, "Fuck me."

Dean braced his knees, taking more of their weight as he reached a hand under himself and wrapped his hand over Sam’s on his cock. He moaned as he tightened their grip on him and stroked slowly; a hot fizzle of lust racing up his spine at the feel.

Fuck, this was going to be the death of him.

~*~

Sam’s entire body reacted to Dean’s whispered demand. His already painfully hard cock thickened inside Dean. Rearing his head back, Sam thrust his hips forward, grinding against Dean’s ass and groaning at the sweet agony. ”Fuck…”

Letting Dean take the lead in how slowly they jointly jacked him, Sam started to fuck his brother to the same, maddeningly slow, rhythm. Sometimes he pulled part way out of Dean, but he didn't allow much space between them, moving harder and deeper inside him, angling his hips to find Dean’s sweet spot. 

Nothing was ever gonna be the same, and tomorrow their lives could come crushing down on them. Sam knew that. But this was happening no matter what, and if it was happening, he would make sure that they had this moment in the sun. That even if they regretted the incident, what they’d felt, how they felt, that would forever be ingrained in their minds as something they could neither forget or truly regret.

He started moving faster, his thrusts shoving Dean forward, though he held onto him. ”So good, so good Dean,” he whispered in Dean’s ear. ”Gimme your mouth,” he stretched to kiss his brother messily, as he tried to control the need to fuck him even harder.

~*~

Dean groaned at Sam’s command, tilting his head back the best he could to allow the sloppy kiss. It was one of the few moments that he was grateful for Sam’s height advantage, his brother’s lanky body able to make the kiss doable, with much less strain on both their necks.

Dean was almost dizzy with how good he felt; the deep, hard thrusts paired with his and Sam’s hand stroking his dick put him almost on cloud nine, and he trembled with it.

Then Sam’s hips shifted in just the right way, and Dean nearly hit the floor, arms going noodle weak in an instant as his brother started nailing his prostate with every deep thrust.

He broke off the kiss with a gasp, having no choice but to let the front of his body to sink to the cold, dirty floor. He was going to have grimy dust coated on him later, he knew, but there was no other choice; the lightening bolt pleasure punching him low in the guts was almost overwhelming him.

Dean closed his eyes as he pressed them against the backs of his forearms, trembling and letting himself fall deeper into it. He wanted to feel everything, every inch of skin Sam had pressed against him and inside him.

It felt like his brother was vibrating with constraint. Every deep, rolling thrust shivery at the end, like Sam could barely contain his own body and Dean curled his hands into fists as he pushed his hips back.

"Anything, Sammy," he gasped, barely able to get the words out between the target-perfect hits against his sweet spot. He hoped Sam understood, knew that Dean was giving him permission to fucking _pound_ him, if that was what Sam needed, “Anything.”

~*~

In this new position, Dean could grind his ass harder against Sam, and it was slowly driving Sam mad. He knew Dean had to be hurting, knew his knees would be bruised, that he might not be able to take the force of his thrusts. 

And then Dean just…

_Anything Sammy. Anything._

A strained groan tore from Sam’s throat as red hot lust overtook him. Using the arm he had around Dean’s waist to draw Dean’ ass up higher into the air, he started to pound into him. ”Dean, Dean, Dean,” he rasped hoarsely, thrusting urgently, riding the waves of heat, and need, and lust. Lust for his brother, for the man under him, every thrust driving him closer and closer, but never close enough. Cursing, he pulled almost all the way out, and slammed into Dean again. He was breathing so hard, it was difficult to hear beyond his heavy breaths. But he was vaguely aware that he was pushing Dean so far that Dean might slam his face onto the concrete floor.

That realization pulled Sam back a little. He stopped fucking, holding still. ”Shshsh,” he whispered, anticipating Dean’s protest as he worked to regain his control. Then he rocked back to a sitting position, pulling Dean down on top of him, without ever pulling out. Digging his heels into the floor, he started to lift his hips up. ”Okay, okay,” he whispered, dropping one hand to the floor to help push himself up, while still holding Dean firmly on top of him, and stroking his shaft.

~*~

A raw sound tore its way out of Dean’s throat as Sam finally started fucking him, _really_ fucking him, and the noise didn't stop; every rapid exhale carrying that sound out of his mouth.

 _Fuck fuck fuck fuck_ … was the only word looping through his head, every other coherent thought completely gone. He could hear Sam huffing like a freight train with every hard slam of his hips, and the sound sent lust straight to Dean’s cock.

Dean dug his forehead harder against the back of his forearms, trying to will his trembling muscles to keep holding him. Something was going to give, soon, and whether it was his body or his orgasm he was too dizzy to tell.

He wasn't proud of the desperate whine that erupted from his throat when Sam suddenly stopped, shushing him gently. Dean shoved back with a growl, trying to get Sam moving again. What the fuck?

He gasped as suddenly Sam was hauling him back, pulling him into his lap and Dean groaned when Sam’s hips pressed hard against his ass, shoving that thick cock deeper inside him.

"Oh god," Dean panted, bracing his hands on Sam’s knees as the new position made Sam feel so much deeper, "Oooohhhh…"

Dean could barely catch his breath as Sam started thrusting up and working his hand on Dean’s shaft, and Dean did the best he could to get his body moving, thrusting back in counter to Sam’s hips.

He just needed to find that sweet slide they’d had a minute ago, get it just right to push Dean from feeling good to going supernova and damn if he wasn't going to try to drag Sam with him.

~*~

By changing positions, Sam gave Dean a little more control over how deeply he was penetrated. It also prevented him from inadvertently slamming Dean’s face into the floor, which had been a possibility, the way they’d been going at it.

The way Dean squirmed in his lap sent more blood pumping to Sam’s cock, if that was even possible. He slowed his thrusts, trying to match Dean’s rhythm. It took a frustrating minute, and then they were in sync again.

Twisting his wrist, his hand on the base of Dean’s dick, Sam started to fuck him hard again. Every muscle in his body strained and bulged as he lifted both of them up off the ground,harder, faster, the pressure building inside him. ”Jut like this…. just like this, Dean,” he chanted hotly in Dean’s ear. ”Gonna fuck you into eternity.” 

~*~

Dean groaned as Sam finally got their rhythm going again, thrusting up hard and jolting the air out of his lungs in a rapid pant.

" _Just like this… just like this, Dean_ ," Sam’s breath tickled Dean’s ear and down the side of his neck, " _Gonna fuck you into eternity._ ”

Any other day, something like that coming out of his brother’s mouth would have made Dean make a snappy comment or laugh straight in his face, but today Dean just leaned back, letting his head fall on Sam’s shoulder and tilting his hips just right.

He gasped, Sam’s dick pegging his sweet spot perfectly again and suddenly it only took a few more tight strokes on his cock and those hard hits to his prostate before Dean was coming with a breathy shout. His hands scrabbled for purchase, finally landing a tight grip on Sam’s arm with one hand and the other landing back against Sam’s side as he rode it out.

…and rode it out, and rode it out. Dean whimpered, stuck in that intense plateau with no end in sight. Dean instinctively knew that whatever the hell this magic was, it’s wasn't going to let go of it’s hold on him until it was over for both of them.

"Sammy," he gasped, scrunching his eyes shut painfully and forcing himself to breathe, "Sammy, you gotta come, I can’t-"

His words were cut off by the rolling intensity of the magic coiling in his guts, and he gasped as he did his best to motivate his hips to move, thrusting back against Sam and tightening around him in the hopes of pushing Sam over the edge.

~*~

Concentrating on pushing himself harder and faster, and lifting Dean up as high as he could, Sam lost himself in the sensation rocking his whole Goddamned world. Dean’s hard grips on his arm and side only fanned the flames of his desire, driving him on. ”Dean, so good, so fucking good,” he panted, his muscles straining as he lifted his hips.

Lost in the frenzy of his lust, it took Dean calling his name several times, before his brother’s distress, his need, cut through the haze. It took a moment for Sam to understand, and then Dean was clenching tight around him, and Sam practically vibrated from the heat curling low in his belly.

Come. Dean wanted to come. But he couldn't. ”Ah… Okay, okay,” he whispered, burying his face in Dean’s neck. He didn't know what would come after this, but he understood they both needed release.

Gripping Dean’s hips, he lifted him a little, then lowered him, thrusting hard and fast at the same time, hurtling over the edge. ”Now, fuck… now Dean, come with me,” he demanded, rolling them onto their sides and fucking harder. ”Dean!” he shouted, slapping his hand on the concrete as white hot heat ripped through him and he came deep inside his brother.

~*~

" _Okay. Okay_ ," Sam chanted against the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean groaned as Sam gripped his hips and started thrusting even harder. He could feel the bruises forming already from Sam’s hands and his hips and he knew he’d be wearing the evidence of this in the weeks to come; but in that moment all it did was wreck havoc on his strung-out nerves.

Suddenly the world was shifting and Sam had them on their sides, his big hand hitting the ground hard next to Dean’s head as Sam finally came. Dean cried out as the magic intensified, digging deep into his body and pushing him into another orgasm with Sam that was almost painful with its intensity.

Dean couldn't get enough air, his whole body burning hot and Dean must have blacked out because the next thing he was aware of was the sticky feeling of their cooling sweat and the inhale and exhale of Sam’s chest, breathing steadily on his back.

Dean left his eyes closed, his limbs cement heavy and shivery, and he thought longingly of his bed upstairs instead of the cold, hard floor.

"Th’fuck was in tha’ jar?" he slurred, wincing at the shooting pain that suddenly jolted through his hip, the hard stone under them doing nothing good for his joints.

~*~

Laying there, on the cold floor, with his semi-conscious brother still in his arms, Sam wondered whether he even wanted the haze in his mind to clear. It was safe here, like this. He didn't have to think of tomorrow, or consequences. Just how good he felt, how tired his limbs were, and how dead tired he was feeling.

Then Dean moved, and asked his question.

Sam opened his eyes. Welcome to reality, he thought. And yet, he didn't let Dean go. Didn't even pull out of him. ”Eroticus something… or other,” he whispered, his speech just as slurred as Dean’s. 

He was still breathing hard, his chest pressing against Dean’s hot, slightly sweaty back. He looked down at their entwined bodies, and swallowed hard. ”I think we’re dreaming one of your really bad porns,” Sam managed.

He slowly pulled out of Dean, though a part of him just wanted to stay. They’d already fucked, so what could they get up to that was worse at his point?

"Maybe we should finish dreamin’ in our own beds," he muttered. He’d bet that tomorrow Dean would push this under the rug and pretend it never happened. Maybe Sam would let him. What good would talking about this be, anyway?

When he stood, he saw their clothes strewn about. There was ripped fabric too. His color high, he quickly put some shorts on and dropped Dean’s shorts onto his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

" _I think we’re dreaming one of your really bad porns,_ " Dean heard Sam say, and Dean opened his mouth to retort when Sam decided to pull out, and he groaned at the empty, uncomfortable feeling it left behind, " _Maybe we should finish dreamin’ in our own beds_."

Dean snorted as Sam pulled away, “I wouldn't be this fucking sore if this was a dream,” he grumbled, rolling slowly onto his back. He scowled at the tacky, gross feeling of the lube from the condom around his hole, and the gritty itchiness of the dust and grime from the floor all over his body, “Or this filthy.”

He jumped when Sam tossed his boxers on him, and he finally opened his eyes to look up at him. Guilt twisted in his stomach at the nervous, embarrassed flush Sam was wearing, and the reality of what had just happened crashed down on him.

They’d fucked. Seriously, fucking full-on, Sam’s-cock-in-his-ass-and-Dean’s-cock-in-Sam’s-hand fucked. And he’d come harder than ever before in his life.

The last realization felt like a punch in the stomach, and Dean almost felt queasy with guilt and fear.

He sat up as quickly as he could, his whole body sore and shaky. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor as he slid back into his boxers. They needed to get out of this room.

He grunted as he pushed himself to get up, unsteady and exhausted. He stumbled, reaching out for a shelf and finding Sam’s shoulder instead, and he gasped at the sharp pull it created in his chest. Dammit, if this damn magic hadn't left their systems…

"Sorry," he murmured, taking his hand back quickly and beginning to gather his clothes. The pull dissipated, and Dean sighed in relief. He didn't think his heart could survive another round. Maybe it was just a temporary after-effect…

"Are you-" he cleared his throat awkwardly as he bent over with slow care to collect his clothes, "Are you ok?"

~*~

Dean’s sarcastic complaints about being in pain and dirty drew a short laugh from Sam. For that one moment in time, there was no awkwardness. This was pure Dean… being Dean.

But Sam could tell the moment that Dean was struck by thoughts of what they’d just done. He seemed to curl into himself, his jokes cut off. Sam actually felt him withdraw. 

Dean’s unexpected touch on his shoulder sent a new wave of lust through Sam. His exhale was audible, as he tried to keep it together, and gave a nod. Whatever the hell had been in the bottle, it wasn't completely done with them. At least when they touched.

"I’m fine," Sam said, touching Dean’s arm to stop him from bending over. He gritted his teeth against the heat curling inside him, withdrew his hand and collected Dean’s stuff for him. "M’sorry. I was rough," he admitted. All he had to do was see the bruises… his hand prints all over his brother.

 _Brother_. He ran his hand through his hair. ”Shower?” 

~*~

Dean clenched his jaw when Sam touched his arm, heat curling in his belly again already. Goddamn sex magic.

"Oh," Dean said with slight surprise as Sam collected his clothes for him and handed them over, careful this time not to let their skin touch, "Thanks."

" _M’sorry_ ," Sam said, and Dean could feel the color rising in his face as Sam’s eyes looked to Dean’s skin, knew his brother was already beating himself up over the coloring marks that were appearing on his body, " _I was rough_."

Dean shook his head, waving it off with as much casualty as he could, “I've had worse.”

Which was true, of course, even Sam himself had left worse damage on him in the past. Granted, that was damage done in anger, not lust…

" _Shower?_ " Sam suggested, bringing Dean back to the present, and he nodded dumbly.

"Yeah. Yeah, let’s get out of here," he mumbled in agreement. They needed some time away from each other to process all this.

Hopefully, whatever was left of the spell would be worn off by then…

~*~

"You have," Sam echoed. It was half statement, half question, and he probably should have kept it to himself. And yet, he felt the stirrings of jealousy inside him, which made absolutely no sense. His expression darkened, and somehow he lost his ability to filter his speech. "If I’d know, I’d have kicked their ass."

Of course, that meant Sam ought to be kicking himself over the marks Dean was wearing now. True, his brother wasn't a stranger to injuries, and it wasn't like Sam had drawn a whole lot of blood or anything. But if he’d been in control, if they’d been on a bed, or a sofa, Dean would be in better shape.

"Shower, yeah…" he almost reached for Dean. His hand was inches away from Dean’s shoulder, when he gave a sharp intake of breath at the images in his mind. Hot steamy water pouring over them in the shower. Pressing his brother up against the tile. Making him ride his cock standing up… "Fuck…"

Dropping his hand, he started to walk. He bit his lip so hard, he drew blood. But he needed it, to ground himself, and to prevent himself from going another round with his own brother.

~*~

Sam’s sudden aggression took Dean off guard, and he froze, watching his brother with wide eyes. He almost whimpered at the heat it coiled in his belly, at the sudden, hard want for Sam to lose the control he was so visibly trying to get over himself.

Then Sam was reaching for him, and Dean swayed forward, wanting that contact so badly and fighting so hard not to.

" _Fuck_ …"

Sam’s muttered curse drew him back to reality, and he let out a shaky breath when his brother walked away, taking the magnetic pull with him. He stood alone in the cold room for several long moments, taking deep, even breaths and trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

Magic definitely not done with them, then.

He finally propelled his legs to move, taking him out of the room and following the hallways up to their living space. He hurriedly dumped his clothes on his bed before retreating to the showers, firmly locking the door behind him. Sam could wait his turn to use the room, he was pulling the big brother card for this one. Oldest gets first dibs.

Dean sighed heavily as he stepped under the hot spray, the water pressure feeling good on the loose sex-ache of his muscles. Usually he reveled in that ache; knowing it meant he had had a night well-spent. Now it was just frightening, it meant that he and Sam’s world had been turned upside down.

 _And I liked it_ , the terrifying thought floated across his brain, and he groaned as he scrubbed soapy fingers across his skin, every bruise flaring with dull pain to remind him how much.

 _You are so fucked in the head, Winchester_ , he thought bitterly, _Your job’s to protect him, not fuck him._

"I’m so sorry, Sammy," he murmured out loud, "This is all my fault."

~*~

Aware that Dean had opted to take his shower first, Sam paced inside his room. He had a towel draped around his waist, but couldn't bear the thought of pulling on any clothes. His skin still felt hot and sensitive. Anything that touched him made him yearn for Dean’s hands on him.

You’re out of your mind, Winchester, he muttered under his breath. It’s a spell, a Goddamned spell. Get a hold of yourself.

Each time he thought he centered himself, it all slipped away at the thought of Dean. God, his brother could kiss. And his growled demands sent the blood rushing to Sam’s cock. Fuck, how could he think his brother was sexy. How could he crave his touch, his rough whispers, his tight, sweet ass around him.

A new sheen of sweat covered his body as he tried to fight his needs. Impatient, needing something to do, he walked out and started to prowl the long hallways. Every once in a while, he’d stop near the bathroom door, put his ear against it. Did Dean need him? Was Dean jacking off? Fuck, his own hand moved down to his cock and he squeezed himself over the towel, groaning out loud. ”Hurry up Dean,” he grit out. Maybe a cold shower would help.

Or maybe one more round with Dean would. His heart started to beat faster, his breaths getting shallow. His hand rested on the door knob as he fought his demons, telling himself this wasn't the answer. But his body screamed for it… for Dean, and he didn't know how long he could fight this.

~*~

" _Hurry up, Dean_ ," he heard Sam call, and Dean was sucker punched low in the guts at the hard edge in Sam’s voice.

He groaned, sliding his hand down his body to squeeze his hardening cock. Fuck, he wanted to open that door. Wanted Sam to fuck him again against the cool tile, and he needed to derail _that_ fucking thought right now.

He turned the water off and grabbed a towel, scrubbing it through his wet hair quickly before wrapping it around his waist. He bit his lip at the rub of the cloth against his cock, the friction making him even harder, and he had to fight not to groan. He had to fight even harder to not start jerking it right then and there, want building up inside him again at a rate that was dizzying, considering he was no where near 16 anymore.

He went up to the door, heart pounding, and knew Sam was still on the other side.

"Go away, Sammy," he said gruffly, pressing his open palm against the door, and he swore he could feel Sam’s heat through the wood. He swallowed hard as he closed his eyes, fighting to control the pull he felt, the deep-seated _need_ , telling to him open the door, let Sam in.

 _No_ , he told himself firmly, _This goddamn magic wants to work it’s mojo on us again, so help me god, we are gonna have proper lube and a fucking bed. I’m too old for this screwing all over the house with whatever we can find crap._

"Take a walk," he told his brother, "Take a walk, I need to get out of here without seeing you, Sammy. I can’t-"

Dean took a deep breath, shaking now and needing so desperately to get back to his room, to put more distance between them, before they did something stupid, “I can’t control this thing with you so close, please. If we have to… have to do this again, I swear to god it will be in a goddamn bed. I’m not getting anymore bruises on my knees from hard floors, I’m too old for this crap.”

~*~

Palm pressed against the wood door, Sam leaned his forehead on it. Dean’s order that he ‘go away,’ played over and over in his mind. Only, to him, it sounded more like a plea. It tugged relentlessly at him. Made him ache all over again, for Dean.

He didn't know how he was aware of it, but somehow he knew Dean was standing on the other side of the door. Torn. Wanting it. Wanting it as bad as Sam did. 

Sam panted out his breaths, his chest rising and falling. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to chase the images and thoughts in his head. How Dean’s overheated and quivering body felt under him, tightening around him. How desperately he’d fucked Dean, and how desperate and demanding Dean had been. Memories of taunting each other, pushing each other harder, had Sam’s gut clenching with need. A coat of sweat covered his body, and he found himself pressing against the door, rutting against the knot of the towel around his waist. “Dean….” He whispered his brother’s name with gut wrenching need, his fingers now clawing at the door. 

Walk away, he was telling himself that, just when Dean echoed his thoughts, tell him to walk away. Sam started to push away from the door, but Dean’s whispered ‘I can’t…’ came through loud and clear. A powerful wave of need slammed into him, and he could not more fight it, than he could fight a tidal wave. 

Sam wrenched to door open, and stared wildly at his brother. His eyes darkened with lust as they roved over Dean’s glistening body, and searched his face. There was no hiding from this. There was no stopping this. He was too weak. Dean’s erotic pull too strong. 

“Sorry Dean, but I’m gonna fuck you again,” he rasped, reaching for Dean and pulling him into his arms. The moment their bodies collided, Sam was on fire. He kissed Dean hard, like he belonged to him, and loosening the towel around his waist, hoisted him up against his own unyielding body. His brother had asked for a bed, that much he could do. 

Staggering into the hallway, he headed for Dean’s room, but even before he got there, he had Dean up against the wall. “Fuck… Dean, need you,” he groaned, grinding against his brother.

~*~

Dean was really going to have to actually change out all the old locks in this damn place, because if Sam could force the locked shower room door open with barely any effort, it would be pretty much laughable if they were unfortunate enough that something truly nasty to got in the bunker.

His train of thought concerning itself with how much time and how many fake credit cards it would take to undertake such a venture were pretty abruptly slammed off it’s tracks by Sam colliding with him, the sheer mass of his brother’s body nearly knocking him over. Sam’s arms tightening around him and pulling him off his feet were the only things keeping him from hitting the floor, and Dean grunted as he was manhandled out the door.

" _Fuck… Dean, need you_ ," Sam groaned as he pressed Dean up against the wall, Dean’s wet towel falling off somewhere along the way. Dean was ashamed to say how that hit him, cranking his dial right up to eleven even as he tried to fight the painful need that was coursing through his blood.

"God fucking dammit, Sammy," he panted, sliding one hand into Sam’s sweat-damp hair and tightening his grip, trying to slow down this train even as his hips decided humping against Sam’s tight abdomen was a fucking _fantastic_ idea, “You are not fucking me dry in the middle of our hallway, goddamn it!”

Dean tugged on Sam’s hair again, trying to pull his brother’s focus off his dick long enough to get with the program, and found himself attacking Sam’s neck; sucking bites and licks into the soft flesh with a groan.

"Fucking bedroom, Sam," he growled, pulling hard on Sam’s hair this time and biting his neck, "Now."

~*~

Reeling from the conflicting messages assaulting him, Sam kept Dean shoved up against the wall. His mind said ‘no’ and demanded he stop, but his body raged with fever for Dean. And Dean was swearing now, telling him ‘no,’ and yet the way he was moving his hips, he way he humped against his stomach, said ‘yes,’ said ‘fuck me now.’ In a frenzy of lust and desire, Sam could hardly make sense of things. All he knew was that Dean’s thick cock was trapped between them, that his brother was as hard as he was, and that they both needed it. 

“Dean, please,” he begged, his head jerking back as his brother tugged on his hair. The sharp pain was followed by Dean’s mouth on his neck, sending electric heat through Sam. “Oh God…” He started to lower Dean, and then his hair was yanked again. “Goddam-“ A spark of anger shot through him and he was just about to give Dean a punishing kiss, when Dean snapped out his orders. 

Sam recognized the tone from years of obeying most of his big brother’s orders. He focused on it, and then the sharp bite to his neck, coupled with Dean’s ‘now!’ pulled him free of the frenzy. He gave a nod, and slowly set Dean down. He couldn't release him completely though. He needed to touch him, to push up against him, like he needed to breath. 

Somehow they made it into Dean’s room. Cupping the back of Dean’s head, Sam slanted his mouth over his brother’s, kissing him as they staggered toward the bed. He tried to be gentle, to slow down, to take some cues from Dean instead of controlling this. 

~*~

Dean’s hips jerked at Sam’s lust-glazed nod, and he groaned at the friction of Sam’s skin sliding against his cock as his brother finally let him down.

The remainder of the short trip to Dean’s room was a passion-hazed few moments, and Dean held onto Sam as much for stability as for want.

He wasted no time once they hit his room, pulling Sam down onto the bed with him and arching his hips up against Sam’s; the filthy rub of their cocks against each other making him groan.

The coil and bunch of Sam’s muscles under Dean’s hands was almost hypnotic, and it wasn't hard for Dean to start fantasizing about exactly what Sam’s pretty, muscular back would look like with Dean being the one pounding into Sam’s tight, hot hole.

He pulled his mouth away from Sam’s on a groan at the idea, and mindlessly started to trail sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against his neck. He paused to gently rub his mouth over the spot he had bit just minutes before, feeling his brother’s rapid pulse in the flushed, soon-to-be-hickey. Dean couldn't help but smirk, feeling oddly satisfied that he wasn't going to be the only one left with the physical evidence of all this painted across his skin.

Dean’s hands slid down Sam’s back to his ass, and he couldn't help but moan appreciatively as he squeezed the firm muscle, pulling their hips tighter together.

"Here’s an idea," he growled against Sam’s skin, "How about I fuck your hot ass this time?"

~*~

At Dean’s tug, Sam collapsed down over him. The sensation of their bodies colliding had him reeling. And then Dean was groping him, touching him all over, and molding his body closer. ”Dean,” he whispered, throwing his head back, as Dean dropped hot, wet kisses along his neck. When he sucked his skin into his mouth, Sam gave a low groan. 

As Dean cupped his ass, and dragged him even closer, Sam ground his hips down. So hot, his brother was so damned hot. And he wasn't even sure anymore whether it was the damned potion or the fact that he’d gotten a taste. If it was the latter, there was gonna be trouble…

"What’s your idea?" Sam asked throatily, his eyes glazed with lust as he looked down into Dean’s moss green eyes. His own darkened at Dean’s growled intent. Desire for exactly that flared inside him, his chest growing tight as if he couldn't take in enough air.

Suddenly welding their mouths together in a hot, dirty kiss, he rolled them over, so Dean was on top. The pressure from Dean’s body rubbing against his hard dick had him groaning again. He spread his legs, digging his heels into the mattress, and clamping his knees against Dean’s sides as he writhed and moved his tongue in and out of his brother’s mouth, slowly burning up at thoughts of having Dean inside him, fucking him, wanting him.

~*~

Dean gasped as Sam rolled them, putting Dean on top and wrapping those long legs around his waist.

"I’ll take that as a yes," Dean gasped out against Sam’s mouth, his hips rutting down mindlessly with every pulse of pleasure thrumming through him.

He wasted no time reaching for the bedside table, yanking on the drawer and almost sending it flying out of it’s track. He saved it in the nick of time and dug around under the glossy pages of the porno mags stashed in there, until his hand finally closed around the bottle of lube.

He panted as he managed to push himself up on his arms, getting his knees under him and sitting back with the bottle still clutched in his hand.

"Fuck," he groaned, looking down at the incendiary sight of Sam’s muscled torso heaving with every breath, and his hard cock dripping shiny-slick precome onto his belly.

 _We are so damn screwed_ , he thought wildly, lust twisting up his insides and motivating this slack fingers to open the bottle. He poured a generous amount onto his fingers, smearing it around as his eyes trailed down Sam’s cock and lower.

"Open up," he said hoarsely, nudging at Sam’s legs with his non-lubed hand, coaxing his brother’s knees further apart.

He trailed his fingers down Sam’s perineum and to his hole, circling the tight ring with his fingers and spreading the slick lube there thickly.

Dean’s eyes were drawn back to Sam’s leaking cock. On an impulse, he found himself dropping his head down to take it in his mouth, sucking at the bitter-salt taste that burst across his tongue as his finger slowly pressed forward.

~*~

"Yeah," Sam panted, not realizing he hadn't given a verbal response. He started to lift his hips as Dean ground down over him, just getting into a rhythm when Dean stretched to reach the nightstand.

"Goddammit Dean…" Sam swore up a storm, but it fell on deaf ears as his brother insisted on rifling through the drawer. He’d thought Dean was going for a condom, but then saw the bottle. Great, now he knew where Dean kept his porn and lube. Sure it was natural, but specific knowledge about your brother was weird.

 _And this isn't?_ Gritting his teeth, Sam told the voice in his head to shut the fuck up.

As if he wasn't already burning for his brother, the way Dean looked down at him, his eyes darkening with lust, almost sent Sam to the brink. He swore he could feel Dean’s scorching hot gaze roving over every inch of his body. ”Dean…” he panted, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stared up at his brother from under his bangs. ”Please.”

Sam bit his lower lip, opening his legs wider for Dean, and making a soft sound when he felt his finger teasing his entrance. He was about to tell Dean he didn't need to be gentle, that he couldn't wait much longer, when his swollen cock was suddenly engulfed in the wet heat of Dean’s mouth. A guttural groan was drawn out of him, and he only just barely stopped himself from bucking his hips. ”Holy..” 

Sam swallowed, watching Dean’s head move up and down. ”So fucking hot, Dean,” he whispered, his hand closing around the bedding as he felt Dean’s finger invade his hole. ”More. Dean, want more.” 

~*~

Dean groaned at Sam’s whispered demand, sucking harder and pushing in to the knuckle, the plush squeeze of Sam’s inner muscles around his finger unexpectedly erotic.

His dick gave a hard throb in response, his hips jerking in tandem and Dean groaned again.

"Fucking Christ," he pulled off to rasp, working his finger in and out steadily and palming Sam’s hip in his other hand.

He looked up Sam’s long body dazedly, his blood churning to a boil in his veins and his dick about to explode with the demand for attention.

"Sammy," he whispered hoarsely, pressing another finger in carefully along side the first, trying hard to contain himself, "Sammy, fuck, I don’t know if I…"

Dean dropped his forehead down against Sam’s belly, hips jerking uselessly in synchrony with his hand and want pumping through him so hard it was making his head spin.

"Please," he breathed, "please, Sammy, fuck…"

~*~

Sam writhed under his brother’s attentions, making a distinct effort to prevent himself from thrusting his hips. Even if Dean was giving him a helluva blow job, this could be his first time. He wasn't gonna make him choke, even though his mind was filling with images of himself holding Dean’s head in place and fucking his mouth. 

Just as he put his hand on the back of Dean’s head, Dean pulled off him. The terrible ache from the sudden loss of pressure could make a grown man cry. Making a sound of protest, he almost dragged his brother’s head back. But Dean’s broken whispers got through to him, cutting through the haze of need, and want, and lust.

He lifted up, and saw Dean fucking against the mattress, and realized Dean needed it as bad as he did. ”Dean. Dean,” he said, his chest rising and falling, his hand caressing the side of Dean’s face. ”Fuck me. Just fuck me. I can take it. I need you, please,” he repeated, over and over, as he pulled Dean up, knowing his brother would rather walk over glass than hurt him. 

"I want you to fuck me," he said distinctly. "Now." 

~*~

" _I want you to fuck me. Now._ "

Dean was pretty sure that his brother’s voice was made of pure electricity, from the way it felt like a live wire to his nerves.

" _Fucking fuck_ ," he gasped nonsensically as Sam’s hands pulled at him, tugging him upwards and he went without a fight.

He mashed his lips against Sam’s as he fumblingly got his hand between them, using the lube left on his fingers to slick his dick hurriedly.

"Fucking yes," Dean murmured against Sam’s mouth, wrapping his hands under Sam’s hips and hauling him in. He fumbled for a moment, trying blindly to line himself up and push inside and failing spectacularly.

Dean cursed again, this time in frustration, before finally using one hand to guide the head of his dick to Sam’s slick hole. He bit at Sam’s bottom lip at the first press of his hips forward, forcing slowly through the tight ring of muscle and nearly sending himself into cardiac arrest in his efforts to hold back.

 _Do not fucking hurt him_ , he chanted over and over inside his head, against every impulse that was telling him that he needed to fucking get moving as of _yesterday_.

"God, Sammy," he whispered out loud, shaking and wanting so badly to bury himself inside Sam’s body, " _God_ …"

~*~

 _Fucking fuck. Fucking yes._ His brother’s frenzied curses had Sam tied up in knots, needing, wanting. He put his hunger into the kiss, raising his hips higher to make it easier for Dean to penetrate him. A frustrated howl escaped him when Dean’s tip caught at his hole, then slipped away, and he was still empty, when all he wanted was to have Dean inside him as far as he could go.

Then Sam’s lower lip was caught between Dean’s teeth, and white hot heat went through Sam. He wasn't sure if this was meant to control him, to force him not to move like he had been, and it was damned effective. A low groan escaped him as Dean pushed his tip inside him, then fucking stopped.

His lips were free. He had Dean hovering over him, half inside him, shaking with the effort of staying still. Sam knew his brother was pulling out all stops to spare him pain, he just knew. He also knew that as impossible as it was, if he told Dean to wait, Dean would fight this forever, he’d fucking wait. And that just made him want Dean more. Made him want Dean with heart, and not just with every burning cell of his body.

He squeezed his inner muscles around Dean a couple times, throwing his head back. There was no pain, just a little discomfort, but an overwhelming need to have his brother inside him all the way.

His eyes were unfocused, but he locked his gaze with Dean’s and reached up, grabbed Dean’s shoulders and raised his hips a little, then gave a nod. ”Bang me. Bang me and don’t fucking stop,” he demanded, hooking one leg around Dean and drawing it closer, forcing Dean forward and deeper inside him.

~*~

There probably wasn't a force on earth that could have stopped Dean from obeying Sam’s demand, the feel of his brother pulling him in overwhelmingly hot.

He groaned as his hips finally pressed flush against Sam, grinding forward and shaking. Everything felt even more intense this time around, and he was suddenly struck with the terrifying thought that they’d gotten into some really deep shit with this spell or curse or whatever the hell it was. How were they going to figure out how to get rid of it if they couldn't even be in the same room with each other?

Then Sam’s muscles squeezed around him and he lost focus, his body deciding to take matters into it’s own hands. He growled, pressing his mouth to Sam’s chest as his hips started thrusting hard and fast, with a sharp snap at the end that jarred his teeth but felt so fucking good. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses on any skin his lips could reach, scattering in mindless bites and sucks along the way.

Dean gasped as he started to feel the same pull again, like a rope being tied around his heart, and he knew that the magic was revving up inside them. What it’s purpose was he still couldn't guess, but he grit his teeth as he prepared to ride it out.

~*~

As Dean pushed all the way inside, Sam arched his neck and grimaced at the burning pain. But Dean didn't give him time to dwell on the pain, he was kissing him and fucking him so good, that pleasure quickly overtook the pain. 

Deans lips, and mouth, and tongue, moving over him, felt incredible. Like trails of scorching fire moving over his skin, burning him up so good. Sam held onto his brother, savoring the soft kisses, and the harsher bites.

Watching him from under his lashes, Sam couldn't help admire his good looks. He knew this was all a bottled lust binge, or whatever, but a part of him knew he’d carry this memory with him forever. And there might be guilt, or shame, or awkwardness, but he wasn't sure there would be regret. 

Locking his legs tighter around Dean’s waist, he met Dean thrust for thrust, the pressure building inside him like a dam about to explode. “Fuck, fuck… Dean, God,” words started to tumble from his lips. Whatever this was, it was pulling and pushing them together, and he felt it just that much stronger now that they were face to face. ”Dean,” he whispered brokenly, tugging his brother up and raising his head up, tangling his tongue with Dean’s outside their mouths. 

Every cell in his body, every fiber of his being, wanted Dean to possess him, to claim him the way he’d claimed Dean. He drew his legs in faster, pulling Dean closer, matching him stroke for stroke. So good, so right, so Goddamned wrong, but Sam didn't care. He just wanted, needed, had to have this.

~*~

Dean groaned breathlessly when Sam’s legs tightened around him, forcing his hips closer and his thrusts sharper.

"Oh god," Dean panted, pulling his mouth away from Sam’s with a gasp, almost dizzy from breathing so hard.

"Come for me, Sammy," he begged in a whisper, spreading his knees further on the mattress and digging in, trying to hit Sam’s sweet spot, needing to feel his brother come apart under him, "You gotta come, baby, come on."

The ‘baby’ slipped out before he could stop it, and he bit his lips to keep anything else from falling out. He groaned as he dropped his face down against Sam’s collarbones, feeling his forehead slip in their combined sweat.

Dean muscles started to tremble, sending ripples of sensation bursting across his skin. He let his eyes slip closed, feeling his hot breath flare back against his face with every pant.

"Come on," he mouthed soundlessly again against Sam’s skin, head swimming in the overload of want still pulsing through him, "Come on…"

~*~

Sam’s senses were overwhelmed. His brother’s sounds, his touches alternating between rough and gentle, his scent, the whole package took Sam to dizzying heights. Even when the pressure inside him was almost painful, he wanted this to go on and on.

Then his brother called him _baby_ , and for one instant, he knew what Dean’s lovers must feel like. He made you feel like you were at the center of his world. That it was all about you. And God, Sam suddenly realized that’s how Dean made him feel outside of bed. And now…

“‘kay,” he managed to respond, biting his lip as Dean’s hot mouth pressed against his skin. Closing his eyes, he lifted his hips harder and faster, drawing Dean deeper inside him. His balls tightened against his body. He gave a pained whisper of his brother’s name, and when Dean told him again, _come on_ , he let go. 

Heat exploded inside him as he came, with his brother still whispering to him, and pounding into him. His fingers bit into Dean, “Come,” he demanded right back, using his legs to force Dean to grind into him. ”Oh God!” his neck arched as his cum splattered hotly between them.

~*~

Dean was pretty sure he was going to die. That his heart was just going to check out, throw it’s hands up and give up because _Jesus Christ, Sam just came without even laying a hand on his cock._

It shocked him, for lack of a better word, to see his brother just give it up like that. Needing only to arch his hips against Dean and let go, his body tightening around Dean and pumping his hot come between them.

Dean needed only that, and Sam’s gasped demand, to push him over, shaking and gasping as wave after wave rocked his body. Sam’s legs kept him pulled him in deep, and it sent another fission of heat shocking down his back when he realized one huge factor that was different this time around. It wasn't just that their positions were reversed, it was the lack of barrier between them. Last time, it had been the lubed condom keeping Sam from him but _now_ , oh fuck, now there was nothing. Just Dean’s cock pulsing deep bursts of come inside Sam and his brother’s fucking amazing ass squeezing and milking is orgasm out long after Dean should have stopped.

Then there it was again, that deep feeling of building, building, building energy that was almost like a second orgasm that started in his chest and seemed to be linked right into Sam.

He cried out when it crested, making his whole body seize up and shake with the overwhelming feeling of it.

"Oh fuck… oh fuck…" Dean could barely breathe, scrunching his eyes shut harder and digging his forehead into the meat of Sam’s shoulder.

Finally, _finally_ , everything started to wind down, and he could breathe more than pathetic little gasps of air against Sam’s skin.

The idea of having anything less than his entire body pressed in and against Sam seemed like the worst idea in history, so he stayed exactly where he was, for as long as Sam was going to let him get away with it. He floated in the afterglow, each breath taking in more of Sam’s natural smell mixed with their combined sweat and the sharp tang of come.

The idea that he could get used to that scent should have been far more alarming than it was, but Dean was too strung out to care. He’d finish his emotional crisis later, when he wasn't still balls-deep in the most fantastic ass he’d has the pleasure of fucking in his life.

~*~

Sam’s breaths came out in loud puffs as he lay there, completely spent, with his brother still inside him. No longer tormented by sharp need, he started to think a little clearer. As each moment passed, he was more and more aware of Dean’s weight pressing down against him. His breath’s blowing hotly over Sam’s skin. He could feel every quiver of Dean’s stomach, against his back. Every slide of his body when he shifted.

This would change everything. The thought worried him, niggled at his mind. At the same time, the fact that Dean wasn't tearing himself away. Wasn't tossing him out of the bed, or running for the shower, or freaking out - that was reassuring. They could deal with this, he told himself. They would.

"Dean?" He whispered, swallowing. "Say something."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean felt hazy. Two intense orgasms in the span of a few hours was not something he was in a habit of having these days, and he wasn't as young as he used to be.

He managed to pull his heavy head up when Sam whispered his name, blinking slowly as he tried to bring his brother’s face into focus. He looked for any traces of discomfort on Sam’s face, any sign that he was dying to get away, put as much distance between them that the bunker would allow. That’s what they should want, what he should be doing right now, as a matter of fact, but he couldn't even muster the strength to be freaked out when all he wanted instead was to kiss Sam’s mouth and keep him wrapped up in bed.

 _Huh_ , he thought blearily, and considered doing just that for a hot second.

" _Say something._ "

Sam’s plea snapped him out of it somewhat, and he licked his lips and blinked hard once.

"You ok?" he managed to ask in answer, "Did I hurt you?"

~*~

"You can’t hurt me, doofus," Sam gave a tired smile. He was using humor to deflect any awkwardness. It would come. Tomorrow, the weight of what they’d done would weigh on them. But right now, he didn't want to think about it anymore.

He was tired. And satisfied. And he just wanted to stay, to feel Dean pressing against him, or close by. He didn't want to be alone.

He swallowed. ”Do you want me to leave?” he asked softly, afraid of his brother’s answer.

~*~

Dean frowned at Sam’s flippant reassurance, but let the kid get away with it for now. He was too tired to argue, and he put his head down on Sam’s shoulder again as he tried to gather what was left of his energy to move off of him.

" _Do you want me to leave?_ "

Dean stilled at Sam’s question, and looked up again at his face.

"Only if you want to," Dean said quietly, groaning slightly as he forced himself up on his arms. He took a breath, looking down at Sam and trying to put the most neutral expression he could manage on his face, "I mean… if this thing is going to keep coming back, it might just be easier… you know… to stay."

Dean felt the color rising on his face as he spoke, and busied himself with de-tangling them carefully. The flush spread down his chest as he steadied himself with a hand on Sam’s hip, biting his lip as he finally slid his mostly soft cock from Sam’s body. He couldn't suppress a groan at the feel and sight of his come dripping out of Sam’s hole, and he quickly shuffled away to lay down beside his brother.

"You sure you’re ok?" he asked again, pressing the back of his hand against Sam’s arm and tilting his head to look at him. It struck him that maybe with so much of his life spent looking across the space between two motel queens, it didn't seem that strange to have Sam laying beside him now.

~*~

Sam raised his eyes to meet Dean’s, as difficult as it was. His brother’s mouth was swollen. He looked completely fucked out, and Sam could only imagine what he himself looked like. They were tangled together, and trying to hold a conversation. It was surreal.

He licked his lips. ”Yeah. Maybe avoid more broken doors,” he said, also feeling the heat warming his cheeks. That had been a bit much.

And then his brother moved again, separating them, and Sam knew he shouldn't be feeling like this. Like he’d just lost something. Like he wanted it back. He swallowed and turned his head towards Dean, laying next to him now.

"Fine." He was silent for a long moment. Trying to read Dean. Trying to process his own feelings. "I…" He blew out a hot breath. "I feel like I’m about to float away. I need you to hold me," he practically whispered, embarrassed by the words that left him. "Or lay on top of me."

~*~

"Pathetic," Dean couldn't help but grumble at Sam’s mushy plea, "You need to get laid more, Sam, damn."

Dean felt gross. With Sam’s spunk splattered all over both of their stomachs and lube smeared all over his pelvis, drying tacky in his pubes, the last thing he wanted to do was freaking _cuddle_.

Dean sighed heavily. Sam looked pathetic enough to nudge the big brother impulse in him, but the guy would have to settle for an arm around his waist because there was no way Dean was freaking spooning him.

"Such a big girl," he grumbled, turning onto his side slowly and sorely, and slinging his arm across Sam lazily.

A big yawn took him by surprise, and Dean groaned softly as he made himself more comfortable against Sam’s side. Heat practically radiated off Sam’s skin, and Dean doubted he would even need a blanket, his brother was so warm.

"Go to sleep, Sammy," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Sam’s shoulder in a moment of endorphin-drugged affection, "We’ll figure it out tomorrow."

~*~

Sam gave a huff at Dean’s predictable response, and yet, it was equally predictable that his brother would give him what he needed. The moment Dean threw an arm over him, Sam relaxed and let out a breath. He shook his head at being called a girl, and gave a tired “jerk,” in response.

"M’kay," he whispered, closing his eyes on command. They automatically opened again, when he felt the light press of his brother’s lips against his shoulder. It was so brief, he wondered if he’d only imagined it.

Why was it important to him to know if it had happened or not? Dean was right, they’d figured it all out tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning, or really it was almost noon, Sam quietly left Dean’s bedroom. His brother appeared to be passed out, and with good reason. His bed was completely wrecked. The bedding and pillows were on the floor, the drawer of the nightstand still open, and the lube bottle lay on the bed.

The hallway also held evidence of what had happened between them. Towels and clothing were strewn around on the floors. The bathroom door was wide open. And all Sam could think about was the pounding need when he’d stood on one side of the closed door, with Dean on the other side. His gaze lowered, and he had the grace to flush at the sight of the broken lock.

He went inside, and stood under the hot water for a long time, washing off the scent of his brother, and of the best sex he’d ever had. Though he had to admit, it had been exhausting. He remembered how Dean felt inside him. How he’d wanted to keep Dean there, and even Dean had showed no signs of wanting to pull out. They’d fallen asleep, then awakened to a few more rounds of fast and furious sex. In the morning, he’d awakened with his arm around Dean, holding him like a treasured lover. He’d bet Dean would hate that, so maybe it was a good thing Sam had been the first to wake.

He ached all over, but it was a good ache. He was smiling slightly, when he thought of what they’d say to each other when Dean woke. His smile was gone, just like that. Deep down, he knew he didn't regret what happened. That he could handle it. And maybe even go for seconds without being under the influence of anything. It made sense in a fucked up and strange way. Dean was the one constant in his life. And argue and fight as they might, he was the most important thing, person in his life. He loved his brother. Maybe he’d never thought of him sexually, not really, but others had picked up on stuff. All the jokes over the years, from motel receptionists. Even Zechariah, who had no sense of humor, had called them erotically co-dependent. 

As he shut the water, Sam took a deep breath. Yeah, he could handle this. But Dean was a different story. Dean liked to shoulder the world’s problems and wallow in guilt. To blame himself for everything. God, he hoped he was wrong, but knew he probably wasn't.

Later, he made some coffee and hit the books. The bottle Dean had opened sat on the table, with its label on display. It hadn't taken much research, and Sam had found the answers. Course, if he hadn't known his history with Dean. If there weren't a whole pile of subtle evidence, including the siren that had come between them so long ago, Sam would have been skeptical about the answers he’d found. Now, not so much.

He scrawled a note to Dean, letting him know he’d gone out to get them some breakfast. There was stuff in the fridge, but he didn't feel like cooking, and he was pretty much starving. And if he was starving, it meant Dean would need breakfast for three, he thought with a snicker.

He left the research open. Dean would either buy the soul mate stuff, or he’d call it crap. But it was all there in black and white.

Grabbing the keys, he walked out of the bunker, grimacing, then smiling at the aches and pains that making love to Dean inflicted on him.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean woke up to an empty bed. Which on most days, would be his normal experience. What was not normal, however, was the trashed state of his bed.

Dean squinted in the light coming in his open doorway, momentarily confused by the lack of pillows on the bed and the blanket that was barely covering him, most of it hanging off the mattress on the floor.

The sudden memory of the night before came flooding back in a rush, and he groaned in pain as he tried to sit up too quickly, his sex-sore muscles screaming in protest.

"Fuck," Dean murmured, rubbing a hand over his face and then recoiling, the scent of cum and lube hitting his nose.

"Sammy?" he called out tentatively, peering out into the hallway from his bed. He listened closely, frowning when he heard nothing in the big bunker.

Carefully, he motivated himself to get up, grabbing a pair of boxers out of the hamper for his journey to the showers, instead of dirtying a fresh pair.

"Sammy?" he called again, peering around the War Room. He saw the evidence of Sam’s presence there, books and the laptop open. He caught the sight of his name on a piece of paper, and wandered over to look at it.

_Dean-  
Went to get breakfast._

-read the note, in Sam’s familiar, neat scrawl.

"Good, I’m starving," Dean mumbled to himself, tossing the note aside and turning toward the showers. Whatever research Sam had laid out on the table would have to wait, he needed some hot water on his sore muscles and the tacky feeling of sweat and lube and everything else washed off.

And more than that, he needed some time to think.

~*~

Sam got back to the bunker and was a bit wary about what he’d find. Dean brooding? Dean angry? Withdrawn? Disgusted? Embarrassed?

There were these and a hundred other possibilities, none of which Sam really wanted to face. It was a difficult situation, no doubt about that. They’d committed _incest_. All freaking night long.

But they’d also done a lot of other things in their lives, when they were out of control. When they’d been possessed, or addicted or because they thought it would save lives (but they’d bee wrong). They’d forgiven each other, and at least were able to live with themselves, if they hadn't forgiven themselves fully.

So yeah… what they’d done last night, they should be able to get over. It was under the influence of magic, and they hadn't hurt anyone.

Big question was, what would they do from this point forward? Sam was feeling more and more like he didn't regret last night. Like he wouldn't mind more of it. But he knew it would be complicated. They were brothers, partners in the hunt, they lived together. How would things like one of them going off with someone else affect them? What if only one of them wanted to try, to see if that soul mate stuff was true? What if it didn't work out?

So many questions, and Dean wasn't even around to answer them. Sam wasn't sure whether he should be glad or not.

Setting the bags of food down on the table, he walked down the hall. Once again, there were all the reminders of last night. Dean’s bedroom door was open, and he saw his brother wasn't there. But he heard the shower, so he knew Dean hadn't taken off. That was something.

Returning to the table, he set their breakfast out. The food was in sealed plates, so it would stay warm until Dean came around. Sam went to busy himself with making a new pot of coffee and tried to ignore his jittery nerves.

~*~

Dean just let the hot water sluice over his body, finished with the actual soap part several minutes ago.

Indecision twisted itself up in his abdomen, making him reluctant to leave the showers and face reality. A part of him- a big part- wanted nothing more than to tell Sam that they were going to promptly forget about this entire incident the moment they figured out how to make it stop, if it hadn't burned its way out of their systems already.

And the other part… well. The other part was a part he was trying to convince himself to ignore. The other part that consisted of the idea that maybe this was a big, fat sign from the universe about him and Sam.

He sighed when the water started to run cold, definitely a sign that he needed to man up and face his brother either way, and he turned it off before reaching for a towel.

He took as long as he could reasonably justify to himself to get dressed, and then forced himself out of the showers, wandering back in the direction of the War Room. The smell of bacon hit his nose almost immediately, and his stomach gave an immediate rumble. His anxiety had almost completely overridden how starving he was, but the smell of breakfast and coffee became a sharp reminder.

He poked his head around the corner, seeing the food containers sitting alluringly on the table first, followed in short order by his brother.

"Hey…" he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He hesitated where he stood, more than a little nervous that this morning was going to be a repeat of The Shower Door Incident.

"Are you… alright?" he finally asked gruffly, still keeping a careful distance between them, "I mean… do you think we can get through some food without…?"

He grimaced at his own pathetic fumbling, crossing his arms and closing his eyes as he took a deliberate breath to try to calm his nerves, “Fuck, if we have to freaking _call_ each other from opposite ends of this goddamn bunker just to stop us from-“

His words halted abruptly, seemingly stuck in his throat, and he glanced up at Sam pathetically, praying his brother would save him from his own stupid mouth already.

~*~

"Hey," Sam echoed, just as hesitantly, and probably looking like a skittish virgin on a wedding night. He searched his brother’s face, wondering what was going through his mind. 

The more Dean talked, the more amused Sam got. Sure, he was feeling awkward about what happened, but there was nothing like humor to chase awkwardness away. ”Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not _that_ irresistible,” he said, his lips quirking up into a smile and a laugh escaping him.

"Fact that I can laugh about it, must mean something, right?" He gave a nod, "I’m fine." His gaze traveled over his brother, and he saw a few signs of bruising on his neck. He could only imagine the prints he might have left on his hips. 

He took a deep breath, and sat down, giving a slight wince. Okay, maybe not as okay as he’d thought. The reminder that Dean had been inside him brought a slight flush to his face, but he refused to allow it to create a strain between them. ”Got you the Big Man’s Grand Slam,” he said, nodding at the food on Dean’s side of the table. ”Figured you’d ah… worked up an appetite.”

~*~

Dean scowled, glaring at Sam as his brother tried to laugh it off like everything was just peachy.

"You know that’s not what I meant," he said gruffly, ignoring Sam’s invitation to breakfast, despite the ache in his stomach reminding him how starving he was, "Personally, I’m not too ecstatic about the idea of a repeat of what happened to the shower door. So is this magic crap burnt out of you or what?"

He crossed his arms and gave Sam a stony look, carefully trying to convince himself to not start freaking out at the sight of Sam wincing as he sat at the table.

He felt color creeping up his neck as memories of how Sam came to be like that slid into his mind unbidden. Before he could stop himself his eyes flicked over his brother, looking for any signs of bruises and marks; all the evidence of his hands and mouth on Sam’s skin.

His stomach did a weird flip at each one he found, and the knowledge that there were probably more hidden under Sam’s clothes didn't help. God, this was so messed up.

~*~

Sam’s smile fell away as snapped at him about not wanting a ‘repeat performance.’ He might have referred to the door, but that was clearly not what Dean was talking about. ”Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” He grit his teeth for a moment, adding softly, “you’re safe.”

There went his imaginings that everything could be okay between them. No, that wasn't what hurt, what was really bothering Sam. It was the damned research. He’d bought into it. Soul mates. But now, with Dean sitting there, all grumpy and not even touching his food, it all sounded crazy. He’d had to be nuts to even contemplate the possibility.

Opening his food up, he started to eat. He kept his gaze firmly the styrofoam food container, afraid to look at Dean and let him see his distress. He felt the weight of Dean’s gaze and held his breath, bu refused to look up. This would blow over, he told himself. And to the extent new hopes and dreams had stirred in his heart this morning on his drive to get breakfast, he could squelch them and call himself all sort of idiot.

~*~

" _Don’t worry, it won’t happen again_ ," Sam assured him, sounding for all the world like Dean was rubbing salt on an open wound, " _You’re safe._ "

Dean scowled, feeling uncomfortable and anxious and absolutely hating it. He forced his body forward to take a seat, pulling his breakfast over with more force than was strictly necessary and opening the lid. It smelled amazing, there was no denying that, and Dean dug in with the plastic fork from the bag with gusto.

For several long moments there was absolute silence in the bunker, save for the sound of chewing and the occasional scrape of a fork against the styrofoam.

Dean shifted in his seat, Sam’s remark still keeping him uncomfortable and on edge, but he had no idea how to even begin to fix this.

So he stabbed a piece of sausage aggressively instead, shoveling it into his mouth as he pulled Sam’s research closer and started to read. If they couldn't talk about it he could at least read about it, make sure there weren't any nasty after-effects waiting in the wings for them.

He could feel himself pale the more he read, and his fork gradually slowed down until his breakfast was growing cold.

It had to be a load of crap. There was just… no way. It wasn't _possible_ , they were… they were _brothers_ , for Christ’s sake.

"I need some air," he gasped, pushing away from the table and booking it for the garage.

Dean was trembling, his mind buzzing with terror. He made it all the way to Baby’s driver side door before he realized that not only was he still barefoot, but he didn't even have his keys.

He slumped against the door and slid down to the floor, breathing heavily and shaking. He put his head in his hands and tried to get a hold of himself.

Considering what he had been planning to do this weekend, finding out his brother was the love of his life felt like getting hit with a meteor.

~*~

The longer the silence grew between them, the more anxious Sam got. His gut was tied up in knots. He’d made his piece when he’d gone out to breakfast, but he’d known there was a good chance Dean’s reaction would be different. But now, with the way Dean was acting, Sam had to believe he was disgusted. With himself, with the both of them.

Of course that was the natural, normal reaction to what happened between them. It didn't mean that seeing Dean’s reaction didn't hurt. Ducking his head, Sam steadily ate his breakfast, though he no longer really tasted it.

Then Dean pulled his research close and started reading. Any faint hope Sam had that Dean would understand, and maybe accept, was dashed to a thousand bits as he watched his brother from under his lashes. The emotions chasing across Dean’s face ranged from shock to disgust to rejection.

Dean’s abrupt movement and announcement had Sam lifting his chin to look up at him, but Dean shot out the bunker like he was about to lose his breakfast. It was Sam’s turn to pale.

He waited a few minutes, and then walked to the door, his gut twisting some more seeing Dean on the ground holding his head. He bit his lip. If he walked out there, he had the feeling there would be some violence. 

"It never happened. It was just a bad dream," he offered quietly, surprised by the sudden sting of tears in his eyes. "Think about it."

Pulling away from the door and leaving it open, he went back inside. 

Running a hand through his hair, he was at a loss as what to do next. So he started putting things away, tossing their clothes in the laundry, fixing the bathroom door, and eradicating all signs of what had happened the night before.

~*~

" _It never happened. It was just a bad dream. Think about it._

Sam’s words trickled slowly through his consciousness, but it wasn't until several long moments had past that they made any sense in his brain. He looked up belatedly, staring at the empty doorway.

He swallowed thickly, head still overwhelmed and fuzzy. He tilted his head to the side, pressing his temple to Baby’s cool metal door.

Baby. Baby is what he needed.

He got up slowly, keeping his hand on the car for as long as possible before forcing himself forward. He needed his keys and he needed his shoes, and the only way he was going to get either one was to go back to his room.

His stomach twisted at the thought, but he made himself go anyway, walking quietly and quickly. He made very, _very_ certain to listen to where Sam was and stay clear. He couldn't handle seeing his brother right now.

When his senses confirmed that Sam was in the showers (the clunking of tools suggesting his brother was attempting to fix the door), he made a break for his room. He jolted to a stop at seeing the state of the bed again, but determinedly pushed past it to gather his things and bolt back to the garage.

He was slightly winded by the time he was sliding his key into Baby’s lock, shoes and socks in his other hand.

He finally got the door open and sat down, his legs hanging out of the car as he put his socks and shoes on his feet. He forced himself to focus on what he needed to do for Baby; on all the tools, parts, fluids… It was the only thing keeping him from screaming.

A tuneup, oil change, tire rotation, and couple hours later, Dean was on his back under the Impala. The work was done, and short of taking her to a car wash, he had done everything he currently had the tools and the parts for. Which left the only reason why he was staring up through Baby’s engine with the cold and dirty floor against his back to be… fear.

He was terrified, as a matter of fact.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the fear he was expecting. His first, gut reaction of fear had certainly been of the taboo variety. They were _brothers_ , it was ten shades of wrong and weird and this whole damn thing shouldn't even be _possible_ , goddammit.

But somewhere between the first and the last tire, it started to make a terrifying amount of sense.

Dean began thinking of all the times in his life that had been the worst. When Sam went off to college, his time in hell, the fucking apocalypse, after Sam had jumped… Every single one of them directly correlated to a time he had been without Sam, or when he and Sam were at odds and distrusting of each other.

His life revolved around Sam. Had from the moment Dad placed him in his arms and told him to protect him. Every relationship he had ever had outside of his brother (with maybe the exception of Cas and Bobby), had always suffered or ended because Dean was incapable of not putting Sam first.

How many times had Dean been willing to sacrifice his life for Sam? Had thrown himself into danger to keep Sam safe? How badly had he wanted to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger those godawful times he had failed to do so?

Soul mates…

_Fuck._

Which left him with an entirely new set of fears. If he and Sam really were… _were_ , then how on earth did he keep himself from fucking it up?

Which left him on the floor under the Impala, hiding like the coward he was and trying to figure out what the fuck to do now.

~*~

Sam half expected Dean to get in his car and drive. Just drive. So he kept listening for the car, sometimes checking to see if it was still there. While Dean worked on the car, Sam went from room to room, picking up the stuff they’d dropped, or broken. He changed Dean’s sheets, and tossed his clothes in the washer. And he cleaned up the room they’d found that potion in.

On the outside, he looked calm and collected. Unruffled. On the inside, he was a bit of a wreck. Oh, he’d come to terms with what happened. Mostly. And he’d accepted that Dean was truly his _soul mate_. But what tore him up on the inside was how Dean was reacting to all this, and more importantly, how it would change things between them.

Dean’s disgust had been evident in his expression, and the way he held his head outside. Sam kept imagining what Dean was thinking, and maybe magnifying the things that might be in his brother’s head. Then there was the question, would Dean ever be relaxed in his presence again? Or would he avoid him, and then would they slowly grow apart?

Dean was his best friend. His brother. And Sam just couldn't imagine losing that. He could put aside any sexual desire he might have, and they didn't have to share a bed, or share a life like lovers, or he supposed soul mates, would. But he needed Dean like he needed to breath, and he was afraid his brother was slipping away. And he knew pushing Dean would only make it worse.

When Dean hadn't come back by mid afternoon, Sam made a sandwich, poured some chips on the side, and got a drink. Taking a deep breath, he headed outside. He saw Dean’s legs sticking out from under the car, and he just knew his brother wasn't gonna acknowledge him.

A lump rose in his throat. ”Dean. There’s… I brought you a lunch,” he said. ”Going for a run,” he muttered softly. If he wasn't around, maybe Dean would go back inside.

Wiping his sweaty palms on his sweats, he backed away, then started to jog. Now he was deathly afraid that when he returned, the car would be gone. _Dean with it._

~*~

Dean froze when he heard the garage door, still on his back under the Impala.

" _Dean. There’s… I brought you a lunch,_ " Sam told him, with the soft sound of a porcelain plate and a glass being set down on Baby’s hood, " _Going for a run._ "

Dean waited until the sound of the door behind Sam had stopped echoing for several minutes before he emerged, his shirt riding up uncomfortably in the back as he shimmied out from under the car.

As promised, there was a sandwich with some chips and a glass of water waiting for him, and his stomach gave an instinctual growl at the sight of it.

Guilt dug at him. Even when he was acting like a total ass and a coward, Sam worried about him enough to make sure he was eating properly.

"God, I’m an idiot," he sighed, turning away from the meal to go wash his hands first.

When he returned, he moved the plate out of harm’s way as he carefully lowered Baby off of her jacks and safely back onto solid ground. Then he got in the car to eat.

"What the hell is wrong with me, Baby?" He grumbled, stuffing his mouth full of sandwich. It was roast beef and cheese with lettuce and tomato, and Dean couldn't even complain that Sam was using it as an opportunity to slip him vegetables because it was so good. He picked at the chips between bites and sighed again.

"I mean seriously," he postulated out loud, "What the hell is wrong with me? What the fuck did I do to deserve this level of fucking complicated in my life? Don’t answer that."

The car, of course, said nothing, but Dean huffed again anyway and continued, “I love Sam,” he confessed quietly, finally allowing himself to really think and feel the entirety of what that meant.

He looked to his right, at the empty passenger seat that almost always housed his brother’s huge frame. A lifetime in this car. Sam said his first words in this car. Read along in storybooks with Dean. They’d fought, sang, told jokes… Sam had driven Dean’s body to Pontiac, Illinois with this car, carrying grief and pain and a terrible determination in his heart. Sam had fought the devil and won, all of it happening with Baby’s cool metal pressed against Dean’s back.

" _It’s ok, Sammy. I’m not gonna leave you. I’m not gonna leave you…_ "

Sam was it. Dean’s end-all be-all. The axis on which is world turned. Jesus Christ, of course Sam was the love of his life, soul mate, whatever they wanted to call it. Dean has been doomed a long time ago.

"You are not going to fuck this up, Winchester," he told himself, "You are not going to fuck this up because it is too goddamn important, that’s why."

Dean finished his sandwich and chips with determination, and got out of the car to march determinedly through the bunker. Sam was still out, but everything had been cleaned up and tidied.

An unexpected wave of affection rolled through him at Sam’s predictable, efficient neatness, and he placed his dishes in the sink as he headed toward the fixed shower room door to wash the oil and dirt off him.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say to Sam when he returned, only that he had never been more determined to get it right before in his entire life.

Ten minutes later, he was fully dressed again in clean clothes, and sitting on Sam’s bed, waiting for his brother to return.

~*~

Sam ran as far as his limbs would take him. He didn't want to think, or worry, or obsess. He’d been doing it all damned day and it got him nowhere. Dean had isolated himself and wouldn't talk this thing through with him. And Sam was stuck freaking himself out over the things he thought Dean felt and thought. It sucked on so many levels.

He pushed himself harder. The more he tried not to think about Dean, the more he found himself thinking about him. The more he tried to think about things he could say to his brother to ease the tension between them.

It was more Dean’s thing, but Sam could totally see himself pretending none of it happened. Maybe late at night, he’d think about what he’d learned, what he knew was true in his heart, but he could bury it during the day. If that was what it took to keep his brother.

When he got back, he glanced toward the car. It was getting dark, and Dean didn't seem to be working on the car. The food he’d left for him was gone too. That meant Dean was inside.

Sam opened the door, his heart racing a little. He didn't know what to expect. Would there be a blow out? Would Dean say something cutting? His jaw clenched as he looked around the living room and library. ”Dean?” he said softly, before walking into the kitchen to find it empty.

He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and made his way down the hall. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and Dean wasn't there. But Dean’s door was closed tight.

Sam looked down as he passed it, a lump forming in his throat. His eyes stung with tears, though it was stupid. A couple day, then Dean would be over this, he told himself as he opened his door and walked into his bedroom.

Seeing Dean on his bed, he stopped mid stride, his heart leaping to his throat. ”Are you leaving?” he asked, voicing his worst fears, his fingers tightening around the innocent water bottle.

~*~

"What?" Dean balked at Sam’s question, "Am I…? What? No!"

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. This was already not going how he pictured, “Sam, of course I’m not leaving. Just… sit down a minute and let me talk to you.”

He hesitated for a moment before gesturing to Sam’s desk chair. The temptation to pat the space on the bed beside him instead was there, but he knew he needed to look Sam in the eye and be completely upfront about all this; having the distraction of Sam’s body in his personal space would not help with that.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a hard puff before he spoke, “Look, I have some things to say, and I need you to let me say them without interrupting me. Then you can talk or hit me or whatever the hell else you might get the idea to do, ok?”

~*~

Sam let out a breath of relief. He wasn't waiting for him in his room just to tell him face to face that he was leaving. That was good. But the way Dean dry washed his face, Sam knew they weren't in the clear.

His gaze moved to the desk. Almost reluctantly, he walked to it, but he didn't sit on the chair. Instead, he half sat on the edge of the table, analyzing his brother’s body language. Dean was having a hard time, that much was clear. The offer to allow him to hit Dean didn't bode well, and had Sam gritting his teeth. Didn't his brother know that wasn't his style. Or that what he feared most was Dean’s words. Like this morning. He still smarted from the things Dean said, even if they were all true.

He put his hand up and stopped Dean. ”We don’t have to do this. I get it. I really get how totally screwed up this is, and why it’s fucking with your mind. So I don’t need to hear why it’s a bad idea, or why it’s crazy, or anything.” He took a breath and looked at his door, then back at Dean. “You and me, we’re cool. A few days, a couple weeks, we’ll be laughing about this.” That came out sounding so false, it made Sam cringe. ”It never happened, because it never happened.”

It felt like shards of glass were churning in his stomach. Cutting him in slices from the inside. But he could deal with the feelings that damned potion had brought to a head. He needed his brother more than he needed a _soul mate._

~*~

Dean grit is teeth as Sam talked, his insides twisting up with anxiety. This is exactly what he didn't want, dammit! Why couldn't Sam just listen to him?

" _It never happened, because it never happened._ "

Then Sam said that, and it hit him hard and low in the pit of his stomach.

Fuck. He’d spent so much time getting himself tangled in knots about all this that he hadn't even thought… Sam hadn't said anything about being on board with this. Just because Sam hadn't gone and hidden like Dean had didn't mean his brother wasn't freaking out. What if he was the one revolted by all of this, but had just been better at keeping his cool about it?

Dean felt sick all over again at the thought, and every impulse was telling him to run, to leave the room and never look Sam in the eye again because how could he be so _stupid_?

"Is that what you want?" he all but whispered, staring resolutely at Sam’s shoes instead of his face, just waiting for the blow to fall. This would wound him, he realized, more than he cared to admit. He would soldier on because he had to, that was who he was, but hearing this would make him bleed.

~*~

The question hung between them. Sam stared at his brother, who was refusing to look at him. Maybe Dean just couldn't bring himself to. 

He took a deep breath and ran his hand up his face and through his hair, pushing it back. He tried to speak, but at first no sound came out. 

The silence stretched uncomfortably longer.

"It doesn't matter what I want, Dean," he said eventually. "I know how you feel about it. You made it pretty clear,” he said in a low whisper. ”Like I said, I get it. I’m not going to make you do anything or …” He looked up as words failed him. ”I just don’t want to lose you. That’s all,” he said, over the painful lump in his throat. ”I just, I can’t imagine you gone, and I can see it in your eyes. You’re thinking about it. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t.” He felt his eyes sting, and looked away.

~*~

Dean got up half way through Sam’s self-sacrificing speech and started pacing agitatedly.

"For someone with such a high IQ, you are a royal fucking idiot," Dean snapped finally, halting with a jerk to face his brother and pointing an accusatory finger, "Don’t you fucking _dare_ assume you know what I think. You have no fucking clue. Do you really think I’d even be in here, waiting for you, if all I wanted was to sweep this under some rug and let it die? Fucking hell, Sam, you couldn't just let me _talk_.”

Dean turned away, both hands going up to his hair, gripping the short strands as he tried to calm himself. He didn't _want_ to be angry. He didn't _want_ to take his fear and his trepidation and his insecurity out on Sam. But he was making it really fucking difficult by cutting Dean off at the knees, before he could even get his courage together to talk about this.

Dean closed his eyes wearily. This was such a bad idea, what the fuck had he been thinking?

~*~

When Dean rounded on him, pointing an accusatory finger, Sam pushed off the edge of the table. Adrenalin pumped through his system as their confrontation heightened.

"Dean," Sam let out a few breaths, his chest heaving. His cheeks and the back of his neck felt flushed and warm. "I think you were pretty clear about your feelings at breakfast, okay? I just, I don’t want to, I _can’t_ hear about how many times you tossed your cookies over what happened. It was bad enough the first time, but I—” he sliced his hand through the air and then put his hand on his hip, changing tactics. ”You never want to talk about anything. I was just saving you the trouble.”

He pressed his lips in a firm line, not knowing what to make of Dean’s tense body language. They were either going to settle this, or come to blows. That much was clear.

"Fine." Sam relented, the way he usually did. "Talk."

Just one expression of disgust had sent Sam spiraling downwards this morning. He braced himself for his brother’s choice words, telling himself he would keep it in, all of it, even if it choked him. His feeling were his own, and he might give voice to them when he was alone, but if Dean wanted to draw blood, he’d just let him. His brother was probably not even aware of what he was doing to him. Sam was the one who’d bought into that soul mate thing. Sam was the one who was fucked up enough to believe. 

He gave a sniff and waved his hand for Dean to proceed.

~*~

" _Fine. Talk._ " Sam sniffed at him, and Dean scowled, anger bubbling up.

In retrospect, Dean would probably be ashamed for what he said, but in the heat of the moment he always had a hard time censoring himself.

"Fine," he snarled, spinning to face Sam, fuming, "Yeah, I was freaked out this morning, alright? So fucking sorry that reading that _my fucking brother is my soul mate and that’s why I fucked him in the ass last night_ was a bit much for me. But you know what? I fucking worked through it, and that’s what I came in here to tell you, you pretentious ass. That I fucking _love you_ , and I want to see whatever crazy-ass thing this is through, alright?!

"Oh but I forgot. You fucking know everything, so I guess you don’t want to believe any of that, do you?" he spat as a parting shot, turning away from Sam and moving toward the door.

Idiot. _Idiot._

~*~

Though he’d braced, Sam flinched at Dean’s language, his bald description of how he’d fucked Sam. Sam’s own anger flared. Whether intended or not, if felt like an attack, a reflection of how disgusted Dean was with what they’d done.

He couldn't help himself, he picked up the pillow on the bed and lodged it at the back of Dean’s head. ”You’re an ass, you know that?” He said, raising his own voice, his chest heaving. “Is that how you talk to someone you _love_?”

Wait, what? 

"Dean. Dean!" he shouted, taking a couple steps after him and grabbing his shoulder. Whirling him around. He searched his brother’s face, his eyes pleading with Dean’s to listen.

"I don’t know everything. And you’re right man, I don’t know how you feel. Can’t you see I’m confused too. I’m afraid? All day long, I wondered when I’d hear the car drive away. When I got back, I was half sure you wouldn't be here. So forgive me, if I tried to just avoid the whole issue, before we said more shit that would rip us apart."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. ”You just said you love me. Do you mean like brothers. Or do you mean…” he cocked his head to the side, his lips parting a little. ”Like soul mates.”

He’d never been so vulnerable. So afraid of an answer. 

~*~

Dean grimaced as Sam told him how afraid he was that Dean was going to pick up and leave. How could Sam think that? Even if he didn't feel the way he felt, they have been through so much shit together, there was no way he would ever severe that without at least trying to make it work. Even if it did mean pretending it never happened.

Either way, that’s not what he wanted.

" _You just said you love me. Do you mean like brothers? Or do you mean… like soul mates?_ "

Dean looked away from the painfully open expression on Sam’s face, staring instead at the patch of floor beyond Sam’s elbow as he screwed up his courage.

"Do you ever wonder why my life revolves around you?" he asked in answer, "About how many times I've walked away from other people, other partners, for you? You’re it for me, Sammy."

Dean sighed, suddenly feeling very weary and wrung out. He turned his head up to look at Sam’s face apprehensively, “You’re the fucking love of my life, kid.”

~*~

 _You’re it for me, Sammy._ Sam released the breath he was holding. Yes, that was the conclusion he’d reached when he’d been researching in the morning. But Dean saying it, acknowledging it, it filled him with hope for the first time since he’d faced Dean over breakfast.

He licked his lips, met his brother’s gaze when Dean looked at him, and accepted his declaration of love without a single doubt that it was true.

"Do you ever wonder why I never went back to college? That brief time when I needed revenge aside, I stayed because I knew my place was with you. I learned to love what we do, because you love it," he said. "And every time we've split up, I felt like my world was crashing and burning. Our lived might be crazy fucked up, but it’s always better with you, Dean," he said.

Swallowing, he gave a nod. ”I love you too. And I _don’t_ want to walk away from this.”

~*~

" _I love you too. And I don’t want to walk away from this._ ”

Dean’s insides felt a little melty as Sam spoke, and he didn't realize how tense his whole body had been until that moment; when all his muscles seemed to unwind with relief.

"Good," he whispered, nodding stupidly, "Good…"

On impulse, he reached for Sam, laying his hand on his brother’s hip and tracing his thumb along Sam’s side.

He laughed to himself dazedly as he stepped closer, pressing his head to Sam’s shoulder and just standing there for a moment. Until his brain decided to catch up to reality.

"I can’t believe you threw a _pillow_ at me,” he finally said, tilting his head up to give Sam a look and a sardonic little smirk.

~*~

"Good," Sam echoed, nodding at Dean as the tension in the room finally dissipated. There were still questions. There would be issues. But they were on the same page with where this was going, and they’d work things out.

Dean’s sudden movement, the unexpected pressure of his hand on Sam’s side, caused Sam to take a sharp inhale. The slide of Dean’s finger along his side was intimate. Not the kind of touching they’d ever engaged in other than under the influence of the potion. 

He tried to process his feelings. The way his heart raced in reaction. The sudden awareness of his brother all up in his space. He swallowed.

When Dean lifted his head off Sam’s shoulder, and made a crack, Sam’s huffed answer was immediate. ”We both know you’re lucky my six hundred page Harry Potter book wasn't around.”

Everything was the same, and yet everything was different between them. It was like the ground shifted under them, and Sam wasn't exactly sure how to behave.

"I ah… I don’t know whether to ask you out for a beer or to…" his gaze dropped to Dean’s lips, a flush rising to his cheeks. It was Dean’s hand on him that was even making him go there. "How slow do you want to take this?" he asked, looking up.

~*~

"God, you’re such a dork," Dean mumbled, though the smirk on his face had slowly turned into a grin.

It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, getting everything out between them, and he actually felt good for the first time since breakfast.

" _I ah… I don’t know whether to ask you out for a beer or to…_ "

Holy crap, was his brother blushing? Cute. Wait. Did he just apply the word “cute” to Sam?

" _How slow do you want to take this?_ "

Dean felt himself start to blush as well at the implication of Sam’s question.

"Are you askin' me out on a _date_ , Sammy?” he said in a warm tease. In a spark of recklessness he threw caution to the wind and stepped slowly closer to Sam; his arm moving around his brother’s waist carefully.

"However slow you want, Sammy," he said more seriously, "You don’t have to wine and dine me, but if that’s what you want to do, we can do it."

Dean was a little surprised to find that he completely meant it. Normally that promise was made with half a plan already formed in the back of his mind to woo his date of the night into bed. But Sam was too important, and this was all too new and unorthodox for him to unnecessarily rush.

He hoped Sam would at least consent to making out, however, because the temptation of his pretty mouth so close to Dean’s was a really strong one.

~*~

He was too used to Dean insulting his ‘nerdy’ tendencies, for the mock insult to bother him. Besides, in Dean’s eyes, he had always been slightly dorky, and maybe, just maybe there was a grain of truth in it.

Even though Dean kind of teased him about asking Dean out, Sam noted his brother’s high color. They were in uncharted waters, and neither of them was completely unaffected.

His heart leapt in his chest at Dean’s sudden closeness. Dean’s arms were around him, their bodies just barely touching. His mind went to last night. The desperate way they’d pulled and pushed each other. The relentless passion that wouldn't be denied. He knew, under it all, those feelings, those needs were still there. But right now, they were under control.

"Just want to be sure you know, you’re not just _convenient_.” The minute the word left his mouth, Sam felt foolish. Today, the entire day of emotional upheaval, attested to how inconvenient this actually was in many ways. ”How about we cook,” he whispered, brushing his mouth across Dean’s firm lips. ”Watch some TV and see where it goes.”

The way his body surged with heat, Sam knew exactly where it would go. Lifting a hand to cup the back of Dean’s head, he slanted his mouth across Dean’s, at first hesitantly seeking entrance to is mouth. But once his tongue delved inside, he threw caution to the wind, and kissed Dean the way he needed. With all the desperation and loneliness the day had brought, the fears, and now, all of his hopes for their future. They were each others’ destiny, and it was that simple.

~*~

Dean gave Sam an incredulous look as the phrase, “you’re not just convenient” made it past his brother’s lips. What part of any of this was _convenient_?! The only convenient thing about this was the fact that they already lived together. The uncertainty, the taboo, the terrifying idea that they might have to _explain_ this to people (his stomach clenched in horror at the idea that they might have to come clean to _Cas_ about all this); none of that was remotely convenient.

By the flush on Sam’s face and his sudden request for food, it was clear that he had come to the same conclusion as soon as his comment had left his lips.

Dean opened his mouth to speak when Sam suddenly brushed his lips against his, and all train of thought escaped his head completely.

 _How will I ever get used to this?_ he thought dizzily as Sam angled his head, seizing on the opportunity of Dean’s delayed reaction to promptly ravage his mouth with a thorough kiss.

Dean moaned, returning it fervently and pressing closer. One hand slid up Sam’s back, palm memorizing the feel of taunt muscle under Sam’s shirt as the other tightened around his narrow waist.

He shivered suddenly as his brother did something remarkable with his tongue, and it became an extreme effort to pull his mouth away.

"Sammy," he panted, pressing their foreheads together and trying to collect himself, "Don’t take this the wrong way man, but… you reek. If you insist on running I’m gonna have to insist you shower before I get anywhere near your junk."

He smirked at Sam, then smacked his ass with a satisfying clap, “You shower while I cook, yeah?”

~*~

Sam got lost in the kiss, and in Dean’s caresses. If Dean hadn't pulled away, they’d still be making out, right next to the door. He was tempted, so damned tempted to kiss Dean again, but it was clear Dean had something to say. ”Yeah?” he asked, also breathing hard.

As he listened to what Dean had to say, his expression turned to incredulity. ”I thought you were about to say something… profound.” He rolled his eyes, “jerk.”

The slap on his ass had him looking over his shoulder and giving Dean a look, but as he headed down the hall, he started to laugh. Dean would always be Dean, even if their relationship had just shifted in a major way.

He took his time in the shower, mentally reviewing everything Dean had said. Each time he thought about how drastically bad today could have gone, he couldn't help but feel like they’d gotten off light. But there was a sense of worry too. He was a little anxious, feeling like something bad would happen, something that would all this away. It was incredibly stupid, and he knew it.

After his shower, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a v-necked tee shirt. As he walked out of his room, he wondered, whose room would they end up in?

~*~

Dean hummed Metallica to himself as he started preparing dinner. On a whim, he had decided to do chicken parm, and was now in the process of breading and frying the chicken before it was to be covered in tomato sauce and cheese and put in the oven.

Just the smell of the cooking chicken had him salivating already, and he couldn't wait to eat. Hopefully Sam would be just as enthusiastic.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his brother clearing his throat, giving Sam an up and down scan quickly before returning his attention to the pan. Sam and his v-necks.

" _Just so you know, I smell a lot better now_ ," Sam remarked after pressing a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean felt his ears go pink at the affectionate gesture, " _Put me to work._ "

Dean couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when Sam pulled away, and he carefully flipped the chicken cutlets over while he considered what he could have Sam do to help.

"Get a pot and some water going for the pasta?" He finally said, plating the fried chicken and adding a few more to the pan with a loud sizzle, "And if you want salad you can handle that, too."

He considered adding, " _And then start kissing my neck again,_ " to his task list, but refrained for the moment. He genuinely didn't want this dinner to burn, and Sam kissing him would definitely be a bad distraction.

And besides, it was actually pretty nice, the two of them cooking together. Grossly domestic, but nice nonetheless.

_I could get used to this._

~*~

"Sure," Sam promptly agreed. Dropping down to a cabinet under the counter, he found a pot, then went to the sink. He watched Dean from under his lashes. If he wasn't mistaken, that was a smile curving his lips and he could hear the occasional humming.

Joining him at the stove, he bumped his hip against Dean’s. ”You look… happy,” he said, glancing at his brother. There were many times Dean looked excited at the prospect of doing something fun, or there was playful mischief in his eyes that anyone else might take for happiness. But Sam could see the difference, and he didn't think he’d seen Dean ‘happy’ in a long time. ”I expected ‘relieved’ more than anything else,” he admitted.

Leaving the pot of water to boil, he pulled out the cutting board and started to cut the lettuce and tomatoes that Dean had already washed. It felt like a freaking date. He was both nervous and calmer than he’d ever been. It was a weird feeling.

"Everything smells delicious. I didn't know you had fancy cooking in you," he said, "you must be secretly watching ‘the cooking channel,’" he chuckled.

~*~

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam’s comment about the cooking channel.

"Might be something you want to look into, Mr Microwave," Dean chortled, "You might actually learn how to make something besides salad and pouring cereal."

Dean smirked in Sam’s direction as he plated the last of the chicken and got busy opening a can of tomato sauce and pouring a bit onto the bottom of a baking pan. He couldn't seem to fight the way his smile faltered after a minute, thinking of how he really learned to cook properly.

"Lisa taught me, actually," he murmured, using the tongs to put the chicken in the pan and pour sauce over them before heading toward the refrigerator for the cheese, "When I first moved in, I was so desperate for something to do, some way to help out and pull my weight that she decided to show me how to cook. So I could have dinner on the table when everyone got home, could feel like I was doing something useful. It helped, I think. In some small way."

Dean kept focused on the task at hand, of preparing their dinner and getting it in the oven before going to the sink to wash his hands.

"Helps now, anyway," he finally shrugged, "Now that we have a kitchen."

He risked a glance at Sam as he dried his hands. There was a dull hollow in the pit of his stomach that opened up when he thought about that year, about what happened to Lisa and Ben because of him. It was a regret he was going to take to his grave.

But being here, now, with Sam… with everything that could possibly happen between them finally laid on the table, Dean knew this, at least, was never going to be something he regretted.

~*~

"Hey, I had a job as a fry cook," he reminded Dean. He knew his way around the kitchen, but he didn't like experimenting with fancy things, like Dean sometimes did. And it wasn't really something he enjoyed, it was more a necessity.

At the mention of Lisa, Sam glanced at him. Dean hadn't brought her up in a long time. She’d been off limits since Dean had made it clear he didn't want to talk about having had her mind wiped. 

When Dean looked at him, Sam caught the glimpse of sadness in his brother’s eyes. He knew the Lisa thing had been partly Sam’s fault. He’d been the one to drag Dean away from a life with her and Ben. The rest had been like dominoes falling into place. 

Guilt ate at him, and regret for his brother, for how things had turned out for Dean. He wondered why the hell they couldn't be happy. Just truly happy for a few hours, or days. Was that too much to ask?

"She taught you well," he said, not really knowing what else to say. If he could turn back time, give Dean back to her… Yeah, truth was, he didn't know if he could. And that only made him feel worse.

~*~

"Yeah," Dean gave a small smile, "She definitely did."

Dean looked at Sam. He’d hurt him, talking about this, he could see it in his brother’s eyes. He wasn't trying to guilt Sam over that year, or anything that happened when Sam came back into his life. If he was offered a million lifetimes, a million decisions, he would always chose Sam, he knew that to the core of his being. The only thing he regretted was that other people had gotten hurt because of him. People that had been far kinder to him than he deserved.

"Hey," Dean said gently, reaching out and touching Sam’s arm with his fingertips, "That was never for me, Sammy. Not really."

Dean looked down, the dirty frying pan in the corner of his eye, and he reached for the handle and took it to the sink to wash it as he gathered what he wanted to say.

"It was… the best I could do, with you gone. But it was never right for me. Wasn't really fair to them, either, you know? Taking up space in their house, being a part of their life when all of me that was worth having died with you. I wish they could have made a clean break from me, that they never had to get hurt, I won’t say that ain't true. But you’re the only choice for me, Sammy. Always have been."

Dean rinsed the pan of dish soap and put it aside to dry, finally looking at Sam.

~*~

Sam’s gaze dropped to the the hand on his arm. He wanted to believe Dean, that that wasn't the life his brother would choose. Sure, they both had dreams of settling down, having normal lives. But it never worked out. In the end, something would come up, something they couldn't ignore, not with the knowledge they had. Something would drive them to go back out there, to stop a monster, and then the next one. He knew that from experience.

"I know," he answered, when Dean looked back at him from the sink. "But is it because…" he looked up and took a deep breath, the looked at Dean. "It’s one thing if that life isn't for you because you've got hunting in your blood. It’s another, if it’s just because of…" he nodded to one side, "you know, me."

He gave a shrug. "I guess we’ll never know," he said, then went about getting the table set. "Or maybe we will. I mean, there’s nothing stopping us from quitting hunting." He glanced at Dean over his shoulder. "If you could do anything you wanted, would you still choose hunting?"

~*~

Dean sighed heavily at Sam’s questions. They were questions he’d been asking himself for years.

"You’re not the reason I stay hunting," he finally said, "because I know it’s the last thing you want to do. And I wish I could give you the peace and quiet you want, Sam, I really do."

Dean looked down, shame and longing clogging up his ribs. What he had said was true. He loved Sam and wished he could give him what he wanted.

"But this life…"

There was silence as Dean struggled. He knew the truth; about himself, about his life. And it was the hardest thing in the entire universe to own up to.

"No matter what seems to happen, it pulls me back in. And that’s ok. Hunting is what I know; I’m good at it, and along the way I get to stop a few sons of bitches from hurting people. Not a bad gig, when you think about it. But…"

Dean swallowed, digging his fingers into his bicep and trying to force the shameful admission from his throat, “I’m too selfish to go it alone. It hurts too much and I love you too horribly to give you up.”

~*~

Sam paid rapt attention as Dean spoke, reading both his verbal cues and his non verbal ones. Nothing he heard or saw was a surprise to him. Nothing.

"Not selfish," Sam said, his gaze locking with Dean’s, willing his brother to believe him. "You’re just hard wired that way. You need me," he nodded. He sniffed, licked his lips and spoke again. "You’re not the only one. I need you in my life, Dean. No matter how many times I told myself I could make it alone, I was lying. It never felt right for more than five minutes. It was a matter of ‘how it should be’ fighting against ‘how it is,’" he admitted. 

"I guess much like what we’re dealing with now. I mean, we know it’s not normal, but… Doesn't change anything, does it. You’re for me, and I’m for you, and that’s pretty much it. And guess what? I’m not sorry."

He pulled Dean into his arms and held him there for a long moment, speaking against his ear. ”I don’t wanna quit hunting. I haven’t in a long while.” It was true. Sure, he might have moments where he envisioned his life if he’d gone to Stanford Law, or done something else with his life. But he hadn't, so those were dreams. And like Dean said, this reality wasn't all that bad once he stopped thinking about it as a prison, something he had to do. He could quit. He had. But whatever was in their blood always drew them back to the hunting life, and that was okay.

"Besides, this place, the bunker, we’d never have gotten it if we’d done something else with our lives. I like it here." He pulled back. "I like being here with you. And there’s no place we could ever be this _free_ ," he pointed out.

~*~

Dean trembled as Sam spoke. He felt like he had placed his heart into Sam’s open palms with his confession, half expecting his brother to clench his hands and crush it. Instead, Sam was holding it against his own heart, showing a level of devotion Dean was ashamed to admit he doubted Sam could have.

Then Sam was wrapping his arms around him, murmuring reassuringly in his ear and Dean had never felt more love for Sam then he did in that moment.

He nodded as Sam pulled back to look at him, his throat still too tight to speak. So he pushed up to kiss him instead, the sensation still so new and terrifying that butterflies swirled around his stomach.

 _I love you_ , he thought fiercely, hoping Sam would understand that from the press of his lips, the tightness of Dean’s arms around him and the feel of Dean’s rapidly beating heart against Sam’s, _I love you and I don’t deserve you._

~*~

At the first press of Dean’s mouth against his own, Sam’s eye lids fluttered shut. He parted his lips for Dean, murmuring softly as Dean’s tongue invaded his mouth. Without words flowing between them, he knew this was Dean’s declaration of love. Sam accepted it, and kissed him back with everything he felt in his heart for his brother. They were family. They were friends. They were lovers. The lines between those roles had blurred a long time ago, and now, the lines were gone. He couldn't love Dean more, and he knew he was everything to his brother.

Eventually, Sam slid his hands down Dean’s sides, and pulled away. He was breathless. A smile played on his lips as he gasped for air. ”I think I know what we’re having for dessert after the fancy dinner you made.”

Taking Dean’s hand, he squeezed it lightly, and then tugged him along so they could finish getting the food to the table. 

~*~

Dean found himself blushing at Sam’s dessert comment, and gave a startled laugh, “Such a dork,” he mumbled affectionately.

They finished making their dinner is comfortable silence after that, and Dean felt content down to his bones. If this was what domesticity was really supposed to feel like, he could get frighteningly used to it.

It wouldn't be easy, there was no two ways about it. Nothing in their life was ever easy, and the level of complexity in this situation brought things to a whole new level of complex, but… it was them. Dean and Sam, together, facing it all down as a united front like never before.

 _Yeah,_ Dean contemplated, wandering over to press a kiss to the back of Sam’s neck as his brother set the table, _We can definitely do this._

The End


End file.
